Saving the World (Is Totally a Date)
by Wordsplat
Summary: Tony discovers Stane's betrayal while he's still a captive. He escapes, and sets out to ruin Stane as completely and ruthlessly as he can, playing up PTSD and quitting his job to destroy him quietly from the outside. He also picks up a teaching job-all Pepper's fault-and oh, right, becomes a supervillain. Okay, that one was Tony's fault, but it was totally an accident. TonyxSteve
1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark hated everything.

Okay, maybe not everything. He hated everything that led to him teaching Physics to a bunch of snot-nosed brats, which for the most part included Pepper, the Cap Squad, and of course, fucking Obadiah Stane.

Everything Tony loathed tended to lead back to Stane these days.

Stane was the reason Tony was no longer a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but a moderately well-off, reclusive, boring ex-playboy trying to reconstruct his life. Well, that was how he looked to the public, anyway.

He also happened to be the supervillain Iron Man in his downtime, so.

There was that.

Which, of course, was also Stane's fault. While being kidnapped and tortured in Afghanistan, Tony had learned of Stane's betrayal. Furious and desperate for revenge, Tony had escaped by redesigning a miniature arc reactor to power a metal suit, the Iron Man Mark I, and flown himself to safety. The only people who knew were a group of dead terrorists and one good but equally dead man named Yinsen, and it was going to stay that way. He'd found clothing thick enough to cover the reactor before Rhodey arrived with rescue troops, and he never let a doctor anywhere near his chest.

Because Stane was a double-dealing, murderous bastard, and Tony had plans for him the law would not look upon fondly.

Stane himself was unaware of this; after learning of Stane's betrayal in Afghanistan, Tony knew he had to be smart about things. He wasn't as opposed to the idea of murder as he probably should've been, but he didn't want to just kill Stane. He wanted to _destroy _him. He wanted to ruin Stane, make him vulnerable and pathetic and desperate, wanted to lay waste to everything Stane had ever hoped for and send him crawling back on his knees for Tony's help.

Then Tony would kill him.

Like any good plan, however, this would all take time. If he wanted to destroy Stane, he had to first get the target off his head, which meant eliminating himself as a threat to Stane. He played up his PTSD, told Stane he wanted nothing to do with StarkIndustries, the company, the money, the weapons, any of it. He let Stane think he'd talked Tony into letting himself be bought out, then Tony dropped off the map.

Well, except for secretly being a supervillain.

Semantics.

To be fair, he hadn't _meant _to become a supervillain. As it turned out though, being a supervillain was surprisingly good cover. Heroes couldn't just go about their business. They had to explain themselves, had to make sure everything was always seen in the right light. Not to mention they had to cooperate with government agencies like SHIELD and Homeland Security, and lord knows communication with Nick Fury was at the top of Tony's To-Avoid list.

Tony needed the darkness. He needed to shadow his destruction of rotten SI operations with other things so Stane never suspected that Iron Man was targeting him specifically. So Tony took out double-dealing SI operations, but he mixed it up with seemingly "random" destruction as well, mostly a lot of industrial espionage, made sure nobody drew too many connections.

It wasn't hard; with his hacking skills, it was easy enough to find other companies with dirty business, double-dealing under the table or mistreating their employees, something_._ He just didn't have to wait around for the authorities to go through the right channels before dealing with things. And, since more than half the time it never got out that the companies were rotten, the general public seemed to have taken the view that Iron Man was just some fired employee or something with a vendetta against big business.

Crazier things happened these days in New York.

He never actually hurt anyone, though he did a damn good job of making it look like he did. He always took his target's businesses out during down times, when there were the least amount of people around. He incapacitated them in various different ways, often knocking them out with a harmless gas filtered through the ventilation system, moving the bodies to a safe distance before bombing the building.

Bombs weren't really his thing, but they were easy to make and great for a supervillain rep.

Another good way to boost his rep was through causing excessive destruction when fending off other supervillains. After a fight with Doctor Doom that nearly totaled three city blocks in the process, Tony learned that even though he stopped Doom from mind-controlling half of New York, the press still chalked it up to a pissing match over who was the "biggest, baddest supervillain of all".

Well.

At least he'd won.

For maybe six months, everything was going according to plan. He was steadily making his way through the list of rotten SI operations, taking out some other bad business in the meantime, and had even stopped a couple supervillains, pretending to just not be keen on sharing his territory. The authorities and SHIELD were always on his tail, Hawkeye and Black Widow in particular, but he'd always been able to outmatch them without too many problems.

He and Pepper tried the relationship thing and it hadn't worked, but she remained his best friend. She'd quit StarkIndustries as soon as Stane took over, taking a job as a secretary at Midtown High- after taking care of Tony for ten years, she'd decided it was a natural step. Teenagers, as she explained it, had similar behavior, but after dealing with Tony there wasn't a brat in the world that could faze her.

It suited her, oddly enough.

Less than a month after she took the job, she managed to loop Tony into it. The Physics teacher had left unexpectedly, and she claimed he needed a job so he didn't just sit around all day moping. To be fair, to someone who didn't know Tony spent his days playing supervillain, it did look like he did nothing but sit around at home. While it complicated his double life a bit, at least the hours were set and he could work around it. The teenagers were a bunch of twats, but most days he could deal.

The other teachers were pretty decent too, and it was unexpectedly nice to have friends that weren't just interested in his money. Really—he had _friends. _He ate lunch with them and Pepper every afternoon, and Tony had never felt such a strange sense of complacency. Natalie Rushman was the hot Russian language teacher he'd hit on and immediately been shot down by, and Clark Barden was the boyfriend who had later attacked him with a pencil for it. Tony had responded by using a stapler as a gun, Clark had said he liked the way Tony thought, introduced himself as the gym teacher, and they'd been prank warring ever since.

For a few months after that, Tony's life almost settled into something akin to normalcy; verbally abuse his morning students, lunch with Pepper, Natalie and Clark, use his afternoon students as test subjects and or co-conspirators for pranks with Clark, grade papers at home, commit crime in the dark of the night, hit the sack, rinse and repeat.

Then they found themselves a Capsicle.

Tony hadn't believed it, at first. He'd been certain that SHIELD was messing with him; the news story was that they'd super-juiced one of their agents, and Tony had believed it_. _Because really, there was no possible way that the guy running around in skin-tight spangles was the war hero he'd worshipped since childhood. But…he did a little research, looked into the science behind it, and to his surprise, found that it was actually a possibility. So Tony decided to find out for himself.

By kidnapping Captain America.

Looking back, there were probably about ten different, less illegal ways he could have ascertained the man's true status without involving kidnapping, but frankly, it was a weekend, he was bored, and if he was going to be labeled a supervillain, he might as well enjoy some of the perks. Besides, it was always good to reinforce the idea that he was "evil", and how better to do that than kidnap the poster boy of America?

Tony did have a secret lair, a plane about the size of a small house, outfitted with mirror-imaging and signal blockers that rendered it invisible, both to the naked eye and even the most advanced aerial sensors, but it was too dangerous to ever bring a captive there. It was Captain America, for god's sake, it wasn't like he wasn't going to escape.

So he developed a paralytic that would work on even the real Captain America's advanced metabolic system, and whisked him off to a HammerIndustries warehouse he'd been meaning to deal with anyway. When the Captain awoke, Tony gloated and ranted and played his role as a supervillain, pretending the whole thing was just about blowing up a HammerIndustries warehouse without Cap's interference, while meanwhile attempting to figure out if the guy was the real deal or not.

"_So, care to tell me what it was like being a Capsicle?"_

"_You won't get away with this, Iron Man!" Captain America continued to struggle in vain, just shooting him a dirty glare._

"_Please, darling, let's stow the clichés for a minute." Tony waved him off._

"_Don't call me that."_

"_Why? Does it make your 1940's sense of propriety go all red and bashful?" Tony teased._

"_For God's sake," the Captain snapped, looking frustrated, "Why is everyone so convinced that no one was having sex back then? We made _you, _didn't we?"_

_Tony was a little thrown, but in a good way. A, that was basically a confession that he was real, so, hello totally inappropriately-timed surge of hero worship. B, Captain America had basically just complained that people thought he didn't have sex. God, this was so awesome._

"_I'm a 70's baby, actually, but that's beside the point. The point is, _darling_," Tony stressed the nickname just to see the little bulge of Cap's very attractive jaw, "That you really are the genuine article, aren't you?"_

"_Yes, I'm the real Captain America, so would you stop calling me darling?"_

"_What, is it because of the handcuffs? I'm rather proud of those, actually—"_

"_It's because you're a supervillain!"_

"_Really? Because I'm getting the feeling it's personal, Spangles. And after I went to all the trouble of designing special handcuffs just for us to play with."_

"_I feel the need to stress that when you say 'just for us to play with', you really mean 'just for when you kidnapped me', and those are two very distinctly different scenarios."_

"_Did Captain America just make a dirty joke?" Tony cracked a grin, not that the Captain could see him behind his visor. "Oh, I like you. Can I keep you? I'm totally keeping you."_

"_Isn't this the part where you ask if I have any last words, not for my autograph and telephone number?" the Captain said dryly._

"_If you autograph the Iron Man suit big enough for Fury to read from the sky, I swear to god I'll hand deliver you back to SHIELD myself, right now. I'll even put a nice little bow on your forehead and everything."_

"_As it just so happens, I have a policy against signing supervillains." The Captain's voice betrayed no traces of amusement, but Tony caught the slight quirk of his lips._

"_Ah, villains get all the shit luck. Not giving out your phone number either then, I take it?"_

"_I'm pretty sure if I gave you my phone you'd somehow turn it into a bomb."_

"_Of course not, Cappy, you wound me. Besides, you're so much more fun in one piece."_

"_It's strange, but I'm not enjoying myself quite as much as you seem to be. Might have something to do with being handcuffed and held prisoner against my will, but maybe that's just me."_

"_Oh, you know how it is, it's just so hard to meet people these days. And frankly, my dear, spandex quite suits you."_

"_Sorry, 'darling'." It was sarcastic and accompanied by an eyeroll, but Tony still found it unquestionably awesome that Captain America had just called him darling. "But I'm afraid I don't feel quite the same about you in your tin man suit."_

"_A 'tin man suit', he says," Tony huffed, "This 'tin man suit' is a modern marvel, the likes of which will shape technology for centuries and the details of which would blow your little mind, but considering you're probably one of those little old men that calls a cell phone 'one of those new-fangled whozits', I'll deign to forgive you."_

_The Captain flushed, just a hint of pink visible only to Tony's observant eye._

"_Oh my god, you totally did."_

"_Once!" the Captain protested, then, after a beat of silence, "And I called it a whatzit, not whozit."_

_Tony couldn't help his hysterical laughter, nearly doubling over in his efforts to hold it back. When he managed to catch his breath, he wagged a finger at the Captain._

"_Oh yes, you and I are going to have loads of fun, Cap."_

"_Tell you what." The Captain flashed him a grin. "Renounce evil forever and I'll come visit you in jail."_

"_Sorry darling, but I've got plans." Tony chuckled. "And they kind of depend on me _not _being behind bars for the foreseeable future."_

"_More's the pity," the Captain just inclined his head in some sort of signal, "Guess you'll have to cancel."_

It was at this point that Hawkeye and Black Widow, two of SHIELD's most annoyingly talented agents, had succeeded in breaking into the building, breaking the Captain out "just in time" as Tony had planned, and they had a quick skirmish that ended in the warehouse's explosion and Iron Man's escape. It was all very dramatic and supervillain-y and la di dah, and Tony had been quite proud of himself.

And if he started kidnapping Captain America more often, so what?

* * *

When Phil Coulson showed up on the front step of Steve Rogers' apartment, he just barely resisted the urge to wince.

Steve liked Phil, he did. Really. He could just be a touch…overbearing, at times. As Clint had phrased it, the man had a bit of a "fanboy crush" on him. Steve had already signed every last one of his trading cards and a handful of other paraphernalia. It was all a bit silly, really, especially when around everyone else the man was nothing if not a stone-faced professional.

"We have a new assignment for you."

"Am I being pulled off the Iron Man case?" Steve quickly interjected, "Is it because he kidnapped me again? You know if you took me off his case he'd just kidnap me from home and we'd be back to square one-"

Of all the new things he'd discovered after waking up in the future, Iron Man was by far the most intriguing. No, not intriguing, Steve mentally adjusted hastily, intriguing made it sound as if they were friends. Iron Man was just…strange. A pain in the rear, really. He should steadfastly hate the man behind the mask, want nothing more than to bring him in—and he did, really. He'd love nothing more, and at first he'd been all but obsessed with Iron Man's capture and imprisonment. But, well.

Somewhere along the line, things had gotten…complicated.

He still wanted Iron Man to face justice. Of course he did, but it was getting harder and harder to remind himself that the man behind the mask was well and true a _villain, _not something more akin to a sparring partner playing a role. Sure, Iron Man kidnapped him damn near constantly, but it didn't feel…_evil. _Iron Man never did him any real harm, never emotionally or physically tortured him, just bantered and joked and, and…_flirted._

God, had that been weird at first. It still was, if he gave it too much thought, so he tried to just not think about it at all if he could help it. He hadn't told Nick, and he damn sure never intended to. Iron Man had been SHIELD's top priority since before Steve had even stepped foot out of the ice; Steve didn't think Nick would take well to the idea that Iron Man kidnapped him so often to flirt.

He probably also wouldn't like the fact that, for God only knows what reason, Steve couldn't help flirting back.

But.

That was another thing Steve tried not to think about, at all, ever.

Iron Man was unquestionably beyond frustrating. What's worse, Steve found himself wondering lately if there was perhaps a way to perhaps redeem the man somehow. There had to be reasons he was the way he was, didn't there? If Steve could figure out and potentially debunk his reasons for being evil, well…maybe he could be convinced to join the forces of good.

Even Schmidt, the craziest man Steve had ever met, had had his reasons for being the way he was. They were inadequate and unquestionably crazy, but they were reasons. Iron Man had never once even hinted at his reasoning, and that was the question that nagged at Steve more than anything else.

If he knew why Iron Man was doing all this, it would be so much easier to just do his damn job. If Iron Man was just some lunatic with a manifesto, it would be so much easier to ignore his flirtations, to fight him in earnest, to get him off his mind. Steve had always been a man who'd wanted all the information before making a decision, and though Iron Man was clearly at ease with his label of supervillain, Steve still wanted to further examine how and why that had come to be and how it might, _might, _be changed.

"Yes, he does seem quite fascinated with you." Phil's lips went thin, interrupting Steve's thoughts. "No, we're not taking you off the Iron Man assignment. We're assigning you cover."

"Cover?"

"Of course, Steve Robinson." Phil gave a quirked smirk, handing Steve the folder of paper in his hands. "You've been in this century six months, it's time you start adjusting to the more normal aspects of the 21st century."

"I'm supposed to be…an art teacher?" Steve flicked through the pages provided. Steve Robinson. Homeschooled by the Amish. Enlisted in the army. Finished his service, accepted a job offer to teach art in high school. "Won't the principal know he didn't offer me a job?"

"He'll think his vice principal offered it to you." Phil gestured to the folder. "And I just did."

"You're…what?" Steve looked up from the paperwork to frown curiously.

"You think we'd just throw Captain America in some high school without so much as an investigation?" Phil gave a soft snort, "Clint, Natasha and I have been doing recon since the beginning of the year, and we'll be staying on for the rest of the year to help you adjust and provide backup, if necessary."

"You allowed Clint in the same room as children?" Steve blurted. He could feel the tips of his ears go red with embarrassment; he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Thankfully, Phil didn't take offense, just chuckled a bit.

"I felt the same about it, at first," he admitted, "But strangely enough, they adore him. He doesn't do detention, just makes them run laps, and he always does them with them. I'm not sure why that makes it better, but they appreciate the justice of it, it seems."

"Leave it to Clint to form a justice pact with a group of teenagers," Steve chuckled.

"It's certainly something," Phil nodded, "Something you can see for yourself bright and early Monday morning, Mr. Robinson."

* * *

Clint Barton loved his job.

He got to shoot bad guys and save lives. He worked with his childhood hero and his best friend. Plus, he'd gotten to the point in his career where he could tease his handler without being shot at. Well, shot at _much._

Really, what more could he want?

At least, that's what he reminded himself when a spitball hit the back of his head. It was the first day of the spring semester, which meant these new shitheads didn't know better yet.

"Okay, spitwad, that's fifteen laps."

Silence. No surprises there.

"Oh, that's cute. You think I don't know who did it? Good effort, really, but three mistakes. One, you have little wads of paper hidden between your legs—yeah, I can see it—two, you're the only one shuffling through your backpack, likely trying to hide the straw. Three, your poker face is absolute shit. Renner, is it? Quit snickering and get to the laps."

He also, of course, could calculate the angle the spitball hit him from and triangulate who shot it, but that might have been a bit too much information for the little punks.

He was supposed to be undercover, after all.

"Fifteen laps?" Jeremy Renner gaped indignantly. Clint could already tell the kid had a mouth on him. "That's like…fuck, that's like two miles!"

"Three and three quarters, actually, but nice try."

"That's crazy, no one can do that in ten minutes!"

They did only have ten minutes until class ended, but Clint was sure whoever Renner's next teacher was would be more than happy to let the kid run out some of that troublemaking energy before coming to class.

"Sure you can, don't be such a downer." Clint just flicked the spitball he'd plucked out of his hair back at the kid with perfect aim.

"I bet _you _couldn't!"

Man, kids these days were such oblivious little fuckers.

"I think I can manage. I told you earlier: anything I make you do, you're welcome to make me do."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now c'mon, hup hup, those laps aren't going to run themselves."

Clint let the rest of the kids get back to playing tennis while he quickly passed Renner. Personally, he was looking forward to lunch; Steve had joined the faculty today, which meant just one more semester until the end of this torturous undercover gig.

Well, okay, maybe he didn't mind it so much.

Admittedly, the little shitheads had sort of grown on him. Plus, he'd made friends. Yeah, that's right, friends _plural, _so suck it, Phil. Real ones, too, not undercover ones he pretended to like to keep cover while he mentally gagged himself with a spoon. And sure, there were a couple of those around campus too, but he actually liked Tony and Pepper.

It had admittedly been a little weird to learn he'd be working with Tony Stark, ex-billionaire playboy turned reclusive high school teacher. He'd expected the guy to be introverted and shifty like the media had played him up to be, but in the months Clint had known him, he seemed just as lively as Clint remembered him being before the whole terrorist thing. Tony was great, really, witty and fun to hang out with and fantastic for prank wars.

Pepper was awesome too, the best at smacking sense into Tony when he got all snarky and twitchy and threatened to run away to his Malibu mansion with playboy bunnies if one more of the shitheads sassed him. She was Tony's Phil, so basically she was awesome.

The bell rang, and Clint let the kids go get changed while he jogged backwards next to Renner effortlessly. That one sure wouldn't be spitballing him again anytime soon.

* * *

Thirty-plus pairs of eyes stared back at him.

"What? I just asked for a basic definition, you don't need to rattle off an equation or anything."

No one raised a hand.

"Quantum mechanics. Anyone."

Silence.

"What the fuck are you idiots doing in this class?"

"All due respect…" One of the kids had their hand half-raised in that wincing, cautious sort of way. "Can you really just say, um, that?"

"What? Fuck? You're a seventeen year old male in a public school and you're telling me you've never heard a swear word?"

"_I _have, I just meant—"

"What, old people don't swear?"

"No, not, I mean, I didn't call you old, I just—"

"Relax, kid, you look like you're going to have a heart attack. Yeah, I can say fuck, and so can you; lesson number one, I don't give a shit about your language, I care about whether anyone in this class can tell me the four basic principles of physics."

Another long, silent moment. Was it just him, or were these kids were stupider than the last batch?

"This _is_ the intro class, right?" One of them asked.

"I'm pretty sure." Tony shrugged easily, leaning against his desk and gulping down half his coffee. God, five minutes and he already wanted to kill himself. "Unless I'm in the wrong room, which is entirely possible. Or you are, which is just as possible, though less likely. Anyone care to explain how something can be equally possible but not equally likely? Anyone? Seriously, extra credit, right now, up for grabs. No one?"

Silence.

This was going to be a long semester.

"Let's start with something a little easier for your cramped, vacation-focused brains to understand." Tony sighed. "My name is Tony Stark. Call me Tony, call me Stark, hell, call me Dr. Stark, I've got plenty of doctorates, just steer clear of Mr. Stark. Yes I'm the same Tony Stark that used to own StarkIndustries, no I won't upgrade your cellphone."

That got a small laugh; good. Maybe this group just needed some loosening up.

"This is Intro to Physics. We've got a lot of ground to cover and I don't do 'slow' very well, so if you start to fall behind, you tell me, I tutor you, I get a student to tutor you, we work it out. The class is fast, but if you want to learn this stuff you won't get left behind." Tony shrugged. "On the other hand, if you don't want to be here? Do us all a favor and get out. Seriously. Switch classes, it's not hard. I'm too old to be dealing with delinquent youths."

"Delinquents? What sort of students go here exactly?"

Tony turned, ready to snap at the intruder for surprising him, only to immediately swallow his tongue.

_Damn._

He was new. There was no other explanation; there was no way Tony had passed by this man before and not noticed. He was tall and a very classic sort of handsome, clean-cut and blonde with a chiseled jaw Tony could write sonnets about. If he knew what a sonnet was. Some kind of poetry, right? Whatever, there were reasons he wasn't an English teacher.

The man had a half-smile on his face, clearly amused by Tony's introduction ramble, and Tony wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"I didn't mean to interrupt." The man took another step into Tony's classroom, extending a hand. "Steve Ro-Robinson, the new art teacher."

A stutter should not be that adorable. Tony shook his hand; it was nice, solid and warm.

"Tony Stark. Physics."

"Good to meet you. I've just got one of your students here." Oh, look at that, there was a kid with him. Tony was too busy being blinded by the general aura of Steve-ness to have noticed. "He seemed to have a bit of trouble finding your classroom."

The school was ridiculously simple to navigate. There was a grassy quad in the middle, buildings surrounding it, a gym at one end, a library at the other, and portables lining the back. "Lost", his ass. Tony raised a doubtful eyebrow at the kid, a scrawny little thing with messy brown hair and a disgruntled sort of look.

"I wasn't lost—"

"You meant to go to the wrong classroom?" Tony snorted.

"No, I was skipping class." The kid snorted right back. "Duh."

"Don't be disrespectful." Steve gave the kid a stern look, then turned back to Tony with a bit of a sigh. "This is Robert Downey. I caught him climbing the fence next to my portable, and his schedule says he's supposed to be here."

"Great. Another delinquent youth." Tony rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb towards an empty seat. "All yours, kid."

"Whatever."

Lovely attitude, that one.

"Thanks for the delivery, Robinson." Tony gave him a mock salute. "I'll take this one off your hands. Don't tell me you left your class—?"

It was a newbie mistake Tony had learned the hard way; teenagers were not to be trusted alone.

"Oh, uh, no." Steve chuckled. "I was warned. I have first period prep."

"Gotcha. Well, hey, you ever need anything, let me know. I'll just be here, bemoaning the failings of the public education system that kids these days don't even know what quantum physics is."

"That's the mathematical description of particle-like and wave-like behavior, isn't it? I'd say that's a bit beyond high school."

Tony was momentarily struck dumb.

"That's what _I_ was saying," one of the kids muttered.

"Shush, the teachers are talking." Tony waved a hand at the kid without turning around. "What do you teach again?"

"Art. I just—" Steve flushed just a bit, tucking a stray blonde hair back into place somewhat nervously. "I've been doing a bit of reading lately. I'll let you get back to class, I only came to deliver Robert—"

"Right, right, go, uh, prep and whatever. I'll see you around, Robinson."

"Steve."

"What?"

"Steve's fine."

A smile like that could kill a man.

"Alright. See you around, Steve."


	2. Chapter 2

Steve's first two classes went rather well, all things considered. Steve had graduated with a degree in art after all, and SHIELD had provided him with a pre-prepared lesson plan that a trained monkey could follow. The majority of his students seemed to be taking the class for an easy A, but Steve was perfectly fine with that. He hadn't exactly expected to be enlightening teenage minds to the artistic wonders of the world anyway. He liked art, sure, but he was a soldier first and foremost, and this was more of a side project than anything else. If SHIELD truly thought he needed this to adjust, fine.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he probably did. He'd been reading everything he could get his hands on trying to catch up on the last 70 years, but there was a point at which that knowledge had to be applied, and frankly, there were some things you just couldn't get from book learning.

He tried to be social with Clint and Natasha, and some of the other SHIELD agents, but he was quite sure it wasn't nearly the same, and he couldn't help but think it had something to do with the stars and stripes. Every agent in the building knew who he was and what he'd done, and they all hero worshipped him to varying degrees. Clint and Natasha were better than most, particularly the stoic, no nonsense Natasha, but he couldn't help feeling that even she gave him more leniency with things. They babied him, really, and there was nothing that aggravated Steve more than being coddled.

The teachers here wouldn't know who he was though, and Steve was counting on that. They'd act normally around him, instead of like he'd crack under the slightest pressure, and through them he could pick up on what normal social behavior was like these days.

Throwing himself into the thick of it and hoping for the best was how Steve did most things, after all.

Once the last of his third period students left the room, Steve immediately picked up his lunch and headed out the door. He knew he should probably seek out Clint or Natasha's classrooms and eat with them, but to be honest, he didn't want to. As far as rational reasons went, he was here to adjust to normal 21st century life—he couldn't do that if the only people he spoke to were people who knew he was from the 40's and treated him as such. He needed to be treated like just another guy, or he'd never get the hang of it.

As far as irrational reasons went…

Well. He'd liked Tony. The man was interesting, in a quirky, energetic sort of way. He was very straightforward, and in spite of his grumbling about 'delinquent youths', Steve had caught his speech about how if they honestly wanted to succeed he'd tutor students on his own time to make sure they didn't fall behind.

Alright, so he also happened to be distractingly attractive, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that socializing with Tony would help him adjust, and Tony _had _said if he ever needed anything…well, he probably hadn't meant a lunch buddy, but it was worth the initial awkward moment or two if it yielded a friend, right? Steve could really use someone in his life who wasn't just trying to get their trading cards signed.

Mind made up, he locked up his classroom and headed over to the science wing. Besides, Tony seemed fun if nothing else, and he certainly had a hell of a smile…

Steve shook his head. Best he not get ahead of himself.

When Steve entered the room, Tony, Natasha, Clint, and a woman Steve recognized as one of the office staff he'd passed that morning were all sitting on top of Tony's lab tables. They were laughing, joking around as they swapped lunches, relaxed and just enjoying each other's company in a way Steve had never seen from the uptight agents in the SHIELD break room. It reminded him of the Howling Commandoes just a bit, and he let that ache for the briefest of moments. Then, Tony caught sight of him, eyes going wide in excited surprise.

"Steve?"

"Um, sorry to intrude, I just—"

"No, not intruding!" Tony immediately leapt off the lab table and starting talking over him, taking Steve by the arm to pull him inside. "Never intruding, seriously, come by anytime. You're new, lunch alone sucks, I totally feel you. I mentioned you could come by whenever earlier, didn't I?"

"I think so." Steve smiled, relaxing as it became clear Tony really didn't mind. The man's enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming, but it was nice not to be expected to do all the talking for once. Tony steered him towards a desk by the lab tables, and Steve looked at it doubtfully. "Uh, I don't think I'll—"

"Oh, hell no, don't even try, no one but teenage string beans fit in those things, just sit on top. So, new-art-teacher-Steve, meet our lovely and terrifyingly efficient school secretary slash professional ass-kicker Virginia Potts, though call her Pepper or prepare to experience aforementioned ass-kicking." Tony gestured to the pretty redhead in a pencil skirt.

She had a splash of freckles across her face, presumably how she'd earned the nickname Pepper. She just rolled her eyes with amusement when Tony called her an ass-kicker, which surprised Steve. His mother would've washed his mouth out with soap for a week if he'd dared to call a lady something so vulgar, but then, this was exactly the sort of thing he needed to learn. Miss Potts was clearly amused, almost proud instead of offended, and Steve made note of it. He'd read plenty about feminism, but this was something the books hadn't mentioned, and nothing the SHIELD break room would've taught him. The agents didn't even like to say "hell" around him.

"Next up we have the similarly terrifying and doubly secretive Russian language teacher slash super secret ninja assassin Natalie Rushman."

Tony gestured then to Natasha, who offered Steve a meaningful look that said it did not go unnoticed that he and Tony knew each other already. He'd have to tread carefully; Natasha had a habit of just _knowing _things, and he didn't need her somehow finding out he was attracted to Tony, or men in general. SHIELD already treated him like he was breakable, he didn't need them trying to brainwash him into being straight, either.

"And then there's this asshole." Tony shoved Clint with a grin. "Clark Barden, gym teacher and general pain in my ass."

"Yeah, _I'm _the pain in the ass," Clint snorted, shoving Tony back, "I think general vote would disagree."

"Hey, Steve thinks I'm cool enough he came to eat lunch with me." Tony made a face at Clint. "Suck on that, Barden."

"Steve's new, he doesn't know better yet."

"Lies. Steve, tell him how cool you think I am."

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." Pepper intervened with a laugh. "Let poor Steve catch his breath a moment before you drag him into your ego competitions."

"Thank you, ma'am." Steve nodded his thanks to her with a grateful smile, hopping up next to Tony on the lab table.

"Ma'am?" Pepper raised an eyebrow at him.

"Uh." Steve paused, and he could feel his ears go red. Was it rude to call women 'ma'am' these days? Ass-kicker was fine, but ma'am wasn't? Honestly. "I'm sorry?"

"Pepper, darling, love of my life." Tony intervened, leaning across to pat Pepper's hand soothingly. Love of his life? Steve couldn't help feeling mildly disappointed. That budding attraction had been remarkably short-lived. "You're as young and gorgeous as ever, don't be so sensitive."

"I really didn't mean it that way, Miss Potts," Steve added, ducking his head.

"Now it's 'Miss Potts'? If I didn't know better I'd think you were _trying_ to make me feel old." Pepper's words were sharp, but her tone was light. She was smiling too, so Steve felt safe to assume she was joking.

"Yeah, don't do that." Tony leaned over to stage-whisper to Steve. "Pepper is Pepper and forever twenty-five and suggestions otherwise will be met with a stiletto to the face."

"You sound like you speak from experience." Steve chuckled, carefully leaning just a bit away from Tony, whose lips were still rather close to his ear. Best to keep his distance. Keep it professional, as it were.

"Oh, he does." Natasha smirked in Tony's direction.

"It's bad luck for the day if Pepper doesn't give Stark at least one new bruise," Clint added gleefully through a mouthful of his sandwich.

"It was even worse when he ran the company." Pepper shook her head. "You can't imagine how many times I had to throw something at him just to drag his attention away from those robots of his."

"Robots?" Steve perked up.

He'd always loved science fiction as a child. After learning he'd slept through to the future, one of the first things he'd felt any real excitement for was seeing what new technology had been discovered in his absence. Iron Man, for all his supervillainy, was fascinatingly advanced. He'd been somewhat disappointed to find out that Iron Man seemed to be the only one of his kind. He hadn't known there were other robots. Why had no one told him there were other robots?

"Well, you know. In my lab. You didn't think I released everything to the public, did you?" Tony elbowed him jokingly, then frowned. "Holy shit, Robinson, what are you packing under there?"

"What?" Steve was distracted, both by the question and Tony's previous statement. What lab? What did he mean, release to the public?

"Jesus Christ." Tony poked him in the side, then in the chest. "Are these _real?_"

"No, Stark, he got a boob job." Clint snorted.

"Clark, I'm serious, _feel _these."

"Um." Steve flushed as Tony continued prodding at him.

"Tony, for god's sake." Pepper reached across to slap Tony's hands away. "I apologize, Steve, Tony lacks a little thing called personal boundaries."

"You ruin all my fun." Tony scowled at her, but it was more playful than anything else.

"Someone has to." Pepper just shot back.

"It's fine," Steve admitted, then felt himself go red again, "I mean, uh. I just, I work out whenever I get stressed, so I, um. I suppose I'm a bit fitter than your average art teacher."

"Well, thank god for that." Tony was still examining him, and Steve was starting to wonder why Pepper wasn't more uncomfortable with Tony's wandering looks. "Jeez, you must be the most stressed out man alive."

"You can't begin to imagine." Between waking up seventy years in the future and chasing down a supervillain who preferred flirting to fighting, Steve hadn't exactly been in a position to relax much.

"Stop oogling, he's going to file a sexual harassment suit." Pepper kicked Tony's ankle after another moment.

"Ow! Heels, Pep!" Tony complained, kicking her back. "And you're not my PA anymore, so what do you care if I get sued?"

"You really ought to listen to your dame, Tony." Steve pointed out.

Natasha rolled her eyes almost imperceptibly, and Clint winced; Steve knew immediately he'd said something wrong.

"Pepper's not his dame." Natasha correctly casually, a thin trace of amusement on her lips, and Steve bit back a sigh. She knew.

"Pepper's just my Pepper." Tony waved it off unconcernedly to peer at him inquisitively. "Where are you from, anyway? Who says dame anymore?"

"I do?" Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He really should not be as pleased as he was that Pepper wasn't Tony's dame. Girl. Woman. Person.

"Stark lacks a brain-to-mouth filter." Natasha told Steve with a small shrug. "You get used to it."

"Yeah, don't be an asshole, man." Clint punched Tony's shoulder. "He's Amish, play nice. Also, give me your pudding cup."

"What are you, my schoolyard bully? Hell no I'm not giving you my pudding cup." Tony held it aloft, leaning over Steve to get away from Clint. "And what do you mean, Amish? That's a _thing?"_

"I'm from Ohio," Steve added. That was what his dossier had said, anyway.

"Wait, does that mean you don't like technology? Is that why your eyes went all wide when I talked about robots earlier? Because if you don't like technology, you and I aren't going to get along so well, I mean, electricity practically runs in my veins—"

"I like technology," Steve interrupted to correct quickly, because it seemed with Tony if he didn't interrupt, he didn't speak. "I was just excited. I didn't know there were actual robots. Could you show me?"

"You're going to regret that," Pepper informed him with a rueful sigh.

"_Could I?"_ Tony had a gleeful grin anyway. "Hell yeah I could! So are you not Amish anymore then? What made you change your mind? How much do you want to see? Do you know how a computer works? What about a cell phone? Do you even have a cell phone? What about a—"

"Slow down, Stark." Clint snorted through a mouthful of pudding. "Let the guy breathe."

"I was just—hey!" Tony exclaimed, catching sight of Clint with his pudding. "What the fuck? When did you even steal that?"

"I've got my talents." Clint wagged his eyebrows in a way that was probably meant to be mysterious, but considering Steve knew he was a trained assassin, it only made him crack up laughing.

Tony tackled Clint to grab the pudding, and they wrestled a minute before Tony managed to snatch it back. Clint spit in it at the last minute though, so Tony just made a disgusted face and shoved it back at him.

"Asswipe."

"Fuckwad."

Their language wasn't anything Steve had never heard before, but he'd never heard it used quite so creatively.

"Bitchmonkey."

"Fucktruck."

"They're competitive, you get used to it." Pepper patted his knee consolingly.

"Entertaining, if nothing else." Natasha gave a soft snort.

When the bell rang Steve found himself disappointed. He hadn't felt this at home with a group of people since…well. Before. Nick was his superior officer, Natasha and Clint were professional in the field, and the other SHIELD agents treated him like he was fragile or a god, nothing in between. He liked this easy, relaxed chatter between friends; he liked being on the same level as people. He'd missed it.

* * *

"Um, Mr. Robinson?"

Steve glanced up somewhat guiltily.

The kids were sketching their own hands, busy amongst themselves, so Steve had sort of gotten sidetracked with some sketching of his own and was admittedly not paying them much attention. He glanced down at his work, at familiar brown eyes, at dark, mussed up hair, at the knowing little smirk, and resisted the urge to sigh. He closed the notebook hastily, looking up at the student who'd asked the question.

"Yes?"

"I think Mr. Stark is making a bomb."

"I am _not." _Tony, who had commandeered Steve's desk to spread out his array of wires and metal, gave a huff of indignation. He waved a piece of Steve's mangled cell phone at the student threateningly. "It's an upgrade, you Neanderthal."

"I'm not letting you back in my classroom if you call my students Neanderthals." Steve shot him a warning look.

"You said that yesterday, but he still came back," the kid complained.

"You're just jealous it's not your phone getting the fabulous Tony Stark patented upgrade." Tony snorted.

"And we're certain this is an upgrade?" Steve peered over at Tony's work doubtfully.

"Shush, you." Tony patted a hand against Steve's face in a placating manner. "I'm a genius, trust me, I can turn even your prehistoric piece of crap into a functioning cell phone."

"It was functioning a lot better before you dissected it." Steve raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Did I say functioning? I meant worthy. And this, Steve?" Tony waved a piece that might've been his screen at him. "Not worthy."

"I still say it looks like he's makin' a bomb," Steve's superhearing caught one of his students muttering to another.

"Dude, it's Stark, could we stop him if he was?" the other whispered back.

Steve chuckled and went back to his sketching.

* * *

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill / too many women, with too many pills—_

Steve startled, unbalancing himself from the stool he was sitting on and toppling to the ground painfully. He managed to scramble up and grab for his phone, where the screeching sound seemed to be coming from, and he jabbed at different buttons until the noise stopped. Thankfully it was first period and he didn't have a class; that would've been mortifying.

The screen had a picture of a grinning Tony, and underneath it read "1 new message, touch the envelope to open". Huh. When had Tony gotten his number? Not to mention, his phone hadn't given him instructions on how to do things before, and he was entirely positive he'd never taken that picture of Tony. Had Tony added all this yesterday? That could be useful.

He touched a finger to the envelope carefully.

_Throwing things off the roof of the school. Wanna come?_

Underneath Tony's message there were more instructions; "tap 'reply', then use the keyboard to type". The buttons were a lot bigger now, and Steve found it much easier to key out a response. Tony's response hadn't used shorthand, but maybe he was just doing it to humor Steve? He remembered what Clint had told him about how everyone "cool" shorthanded these days by dropping vowels, and decided to impress Tony with his knowhow.

_Y r u dng tht?_

_For science. Why are you texting like a twelve year old girl?_

Steve flushed.

_I was told that was how people texted._

_Bad source. Meet us on the roof?_

_Don't know how to get there._

_Hold on._

Less than thirty seconds after Steve got the text, Tony was bursting into his classroom, thirty-something teenagers behind in him in the hallway.

"Hey, figured we'd just grab you on our way." He took Steve by the arm and hauled him along excitedly. "Alright guys, let's teach Mr. Robinson the dynamics of gravity!"

Steve decided not to comment that between skydiving into enemy territory and falling off buildings in his many attempts to pin down Iron Man he was intimately aware of the dynamics of gravity, instead just shaking his head with a smile letting himself be pulled along for the ride.

* * *

Tony hated meetings.

He'd hated them when he ran them, but he hated them even more now that he didn't. Midtown High staff meetings were every Friday after school in the library, and they always put him in a foul mood. The coffee was disgusting, the cookies were stale, and thanks to assistant principal Phineas Cogman, aka the biggest pain in Tony's ass ever, they were also dreadfully dull. He was only supposed to be the assistant principal, but Tony wasn't entirely sure he'd even seen the actual principal since Cogman had joined the faculty.

"Do we have an actual principal?" Tony leaned over to whisper at Pepper.

"Yes." She kicked him in the shin for his trouble. "Pay attention."

"_Heels," _he hissed, because those _hurt _god damn it.

"_Focus," _she hissed right back.

Tony huffed, and leaned forward to bother Steve instead. Steve was fun to bother, as Tony had rapidly discovered. Steve, for reasons unknown, found him amusing instead of obnoxious, and Tony abused it shamelessly. He was pretty sure they'd sent at least a dozen students back and forth with unimportant, random messages this week alone. When he sent students with messages for Pepper she lectured him on his inappropriate behavior, Natalie threatened bodily harm if he interrupted her class, and Clark just ignored him, or pranked him later.

In summary, Steve was totally Tony's new favorite.

He slipped right into their lunch group seamlessly; Pepper adored him, Natalie didn't try to kill him, and Clark thought he was hilarious. Tony almost always spent his prep period finding excuses to go hang out in Steve's class, which meant Steve's third period class did a lot of "individual exercises" while they chatted away, but whatever, it was an elective anyway. Steve had tried to get him to leave at first, but his insistences had been weak at best, and he always gave in with this amused little smile that gave Tony heart palpitations.

Yeah, okay, he had it bad.

"Psst!"

"Tony?" Steve turned slightly, looking adorably confused that Tony would talk to him during a meeting.

"Have you ever met the principal?"

"What?" Steve glanced forward at Cogman, carefully waiting until his back was turned, then looking back at Tony again. "No. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure Cogman assassinated him."

Steve started to laugh, and promptly snorted in an attempt to silence himself when Cogman shot him a look. Cogman seemed surprised that Steve was the disruption and let it slide. Man, new guys got all the luck.

"The minute that guy showed up he took charge of this place, and I haven't seen the principal since," Tony pointed out, "I can't even remember his name."

"Are you one of those conspiracy theorists?" Steve sounded amused.

"No." Tony scowled. "I'm just saying it's suspicious, is all."

"He's probably just very efficient."

"He's _weird. _Have you talked him yet?"

"In passing."

"Talk for more than a minute, and I guarantee he'll find a way to work his signed Cap cards into the conversation."

Steve made a strangled sort of noise as he tried not to laugh.

"I'm serious! He actually got that yutz sign them, god knows how—"

"Did you just call Captain America a yutz?" Steve was staring at him now, and Tony suddenly found himself rather self-conscious in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

"Uh." Steve's stare was more surprised than are-you-mental, thankfully. "I don't know, I figure you kind of have to be to run around in red white and blue tights for a living."

Steve gave a startled laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth when Cogman turned to him with narrowed eyes.

"Something to share, Mr. Robinson?" Cogman raised an eyebrow.

"No, sir." Steve ducked his head, blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down the back of his neck. Tony wondered how far down it went.

"Phineas is fine." Cogman gave a satisfied little nod, though he still seemed suspicious.

Tony didn't like the look he was giving Steve though, all disappointed and critical. Steve looked upset by it, like he'd done some great wrong, and Tony figured the least he could do was try and get that look off Steve's face.

"Phineas, dear?" Tony raised his hand. "I have a question."

"That's Mr. Cogman to you, Stark," Cogman informed him crisply.

"Are you picking favorites here, Phinny?"

"Yes. My favorite is everyone in this room whose name doesn't begin with Tony and end with Stark."

"Now, see, I feel…" Tony glanced down at the bullying pamphlet he'd been handed at the beginning of the meeting. "A decreased sense of self-esteem, the urge for self-destructive behavior, lack of interest in my daily life…yep, I'm definitely being bullied here. I'd better report it to a teacher or other responsible adult. Psst, Steve!"

"Yes, Tony?" Steve sighed, trying to look disapproving, but Tony could see the hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"I need to repor—_ow!_"

"Go on, Phineas." Pepper smiled innocently at Cogman while Tony rubbed his shin and swore.

"Good to see you've been paying attention to the bullying protocols, at least." Cogman gave an irritated sigh, "Now, if we could all refocus our attention—"

Tony sullenly zoned out for the rest the meeting, which was fine, because he'd already gotten the highlight: Steve turning in his seat just enough to shoot Tony an amused, grateful smile. When the meeting was finally over, Tony stretched his back until it gave a satisfying pop, then caught up with Steve. He slung an arm around the man's ridiculously broad shoulders as they all headed out to the parking lot.

"Woohoo, Drunk Friday here we come!"

"Drunk Friday?" Steve raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't shrug off his arm.

"Well, yeah." Clark sidled up next to them, Natalie and Pepper one step behind. "Your BFF Stark didn't tell you? Every Friday, to celebrate making it through yet another week of high school hell, we get smashed!"

"Well, Clark and I get smashed," Tony amended, "Pep's our designated driver and Nat drinks us under the table, then they vent about our idiotic antics while we roll around on the floor trying to remember how to work our legs."

"Best part of the job." Clark grinned.

"Agreed." Natalie smirked.

"Only thing keeping me sane." Pepper sighed, though Tony could see the tell-tale twitch of an amused smile.

"But I can't get dru—" Steve started, then stopped speaking abruptly.

"What?" Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve was making a face like he'd swallowed a fly, and Natalie and Clark were both giving Steve A Look. "Hey, what's that? What's the look for, are you okay?"

"Yep, sure, let's go, where are we going, have I mentioned I don't know where we're going or how to get there?" Steve was talking at lightning pace, and Tony wondered if this was what it was like for other people to be around him.

"Slow your roll honeybear, you can ride with us. We all carpool with Pepper on Fridays so we can get drunk anyway." Tony just laughed, gesturing to Pepper's car.

They all slid in, Pepper and Natalie up front, Clark squeezed against the window with Steve in the middle.

"The fuck, man?"Clark grouched. "How big are those muscles of yours? I can barely breathe over here."

"I can take my motorcycle, it's fine, I'm not going to drink—" Steve started, but Tony just rolled his eyes and didn't let him out.

"Don't be ridiculous, hell yeah you're gonna drink, it's your first week! Clark's a grown man—sometimes." Tony snorted. "He'll get over having the window seat every once in a while."

"I see how it is, a hot piece of ass comes along and you just throw me under the bus," Clark grumbled. Steve flushed bright red, likely at the hot piece of ass comment, and Tony just chuckled; how was it possible for a grown man to be so freaking adorable?

"Don't be jealous, muffin." Tony patted Clark's hand in reply. "You're still the one I'll be singing 80's songs with at the top of my lungs until they kick us out."

"You know it, princess." Clark gave a grudging smirk.

"So how was your first week, Steve?" Pepper asked as she started up the car.

"Counting down the days til retirement yet?" Tony grinned.

"Not exactly." Steve chuckled. "Are you?"

"Nah. Even without my SI stocks I'm loaded, just not billionaire loaded. I could retire whenever, but I've got to find some way to spend my days, don't I?"

"What's SI?" Steve questioned.

"StarkIndustries?" Pepper raised an eyebrow at Steve in the mirror.

"The number one weapons developer in America. It funds numerous military programs." Natalie informed Steve drily from the front seat. "Such as SHIELD."

"Oh, right." Steve blinked. He had a thoughtful little frown on his face, like he was piecing something together. "Wait, _Stark_Industries? Is that _your_ company?"

"Was, past tense." Tony faltered, glancing over at Steve. "Had a bad experience. Steve, do you not know who I am?"

"Um. Tony Stark?"

"No, I mean…had you not heard of me before we met in my classroom?"

"You know, you're really not as famous as you think you are—" Clark seemed eager to intervene, but Tony shushed him.

"Oh please, yes I am."

"You've really never heard of StarkIndustries?" Pepper narrowed her eyes at Steve, and Tony recognized that look all too well. It was Pepper's I Am Suspicious Of Your Intent look.

"Relax, Pep, he's not some corporate spy out to assassinate me. Those days are over, remember?" Tony reassured her.

"He is Amish," Clint interjected again to remind them both.

"Yes, Amish." Steve looked uncomfortable. "Is it a bad thing, that I don't know?"

Tony did feel mildly bad about making Steve feel self-conscious about the whole Amish thing—Steve had explained during one of their talks that it was just how he'd been raised, it wasn't like he'd had a choice—but any guilt was currently buried under a massive amount of something damn close to euphoria. Tony had never run into someone who hadn't at least heard of him. He was so used to compensating for people's prior opinions and navigating expectations, it was second nature.

He knew there was a reason he'd liked Steve so damn much.

"No!" Tony answered hastily, "Not a bad thing. It's a good thing, a great thing. Don't feel bad, seriously, this is awesome. Just don't go researching me or anything."

"Why?"

Something about the way Steve asked it was…not innocent, exactly, but earnest. Tony could tell he honestly didn't know, and he decided immediately that he liked it better that way.

"Let's just say it's not often I get to make a real first impression."

"If you say so." Steve seemed amused by Tony's general existence at this point, and Tony aimed to keep it that way.

Could it really be possible that this man didn't know a thing about him? That this perfect, funny, gorgeous man had just appeared out of nowhere and seemed to genuinely _like _him for reasons that had nothing to with money, fame, or reputation? There had to be a catch. There was always a catch, but Tony found himself putting his overactive paranoia to the back of his mind just this once.

Just this once, he let himself hope instead.


	3. Chapter 3

God damn it.

Steve hated waking up like this. Iron Man's reasons for kidnapping him were always wildly creative—as well as often complete bullshit—but the actual kidnapping was pretty rote at this point. It always seemed to involve him being drugged, handcuffed, and waking up in warehouses. Once his strength returned he'd be able to pry the handcuffs away from whatever he was handcuffed to—a pole, this time—but until the drug stopped dulling his abilities there wasn't much else he could do.

He racked his drug-addled brain to figure out how it had happened this time. It was Friday, wasn't it? Right, Tony had stopped by during third period to distract him with stories about his students antics, there had been a staff meeting, then the gang had dragged him off to something they called Drunk Friday.

The rest of the night was a bit blurry, likely the drugs since he hadn't had anything but water to drink, not that it would've affected him anyway. He remembered Tony and Clint singing something about another one biting dust, Tony convincing a drunk Pepper to sing a surprisingly fantastic rendition of a country song Steve unsurprisingly didn't recognize, and he definitely remembered Tony dragging him on stage to sing "You Give Love a Bad Name". He'd stammered a lot but eventually managed to stumble along to the lyrics onscreen, and Tony had been tipsy enough that he'd needed Steve's arm around his waist to stay upright, so Steve couldn't really say he'd minded all that much.

What had happened after that? When had they all gone home, much less suited up and fought a supervillain?

He was drawing a blank, and he didn't like it.

"You're looking a bit disgruntled there, Cap." Iron Man entered through the roof of the warehouse, repulsors whining as he came to a landing directly in front of Steve. "How're you liking the new product? This stuff could kill an elephant, but look at you, taking it like a champ! I knew you would. You loopy, dizzy…anything?"

"What have you done to me now, shellhead?" Steve grunted.

"Let me guess, memory troubles?" Iron Man gloated, "Perfect. How far back, one day, two days…what're we looking at here, honey?"

"It's a bit hard to determine, seeing as _I can't remember."_

"Fair point, no need to growl."

Iron Man mused, walking around him in a half circle. Iron Man always wore a faceplate, but his suit was so lifelike that Steve had learned to decipher certain things by some of the suits motions. At the moment, he had his head quirked and his fingers tapping almost imperceptibly; he hadn't kidnapped Steve just to flirt this time, there was purpose here, likely something scientific. Usually Iron Man's stares made Steve feel leered at, but this time it just seemed examining.

"Today's Sunday," Iron Man informed him at last.

Steve grit his teeth, but gave no other answer. Iron Man didn't seem to need one.

"Ooh, I've pissed you off, haven't I? Sorry darling, just a little experiment. I woke up hungover as hell yesterday and inspiration just struck, you know how these things go."

"I don't think I've ever been quite so hungover I developed a memory lapse drug for an enhanced metabolism so I could kidnap a superhero, no."

"Well, it wasn't _just _so I could kidnap you." Iron Man gave a half-shrugging sort of motion. "I could already do that. This was for science."

"You used me as a test dummy for a _date rape drug?_ That's a new low, even for you—"

"What? Jesus, no, I'm not a rapist—"

"Just a supervillain—"

"A _curious _supervillain, calm down Spangles. Science isn't always about the progression of humanity, y'know." Steve would bet money Iron Man was rolling his eyes behind the faceplate. "Sometimes it's just fun."

Steve got the distinct impression that Tony would like Iron Man. Which was awkward on a number of levels, but also meant he seemed to have a "type", as Bucky would've called it. Steve resisted the urge to groan; mouthy guys obsessed with science weren't exactly what he'd envisioned for himself in a partner.

Not that Iron Man was a candidate, obviously. Insanely inappropriate attractions and unnecessary flirting aside, the supervillain thing was a bit of a deal-breaker.

"Well, I'm just having a ball," Steve told him flatly.

"There's that dry humor." Iron Man made an odd, garbled sort of sound Steve had learned to identify as a snort of laughter. "Gets me every time. See, if I kidnap Hawkeye he just glares at me like I've personally offended him, and if I kidnap Widow she stares me down until I wet the suit and confess my every repressed childhood trauma."

"She does have the uncanny knack of just _knowing _things, doesn't she?" Steve's thoughts drifted again to Tony, and the look she'd shot him when he'd given in to Tony's wishes and sung karaoke with him at the bar.

"Drives me crazy. You're much more fun."

"You know me, life of the party." Steve tested his restraints. No such luck. "So what, I'm just your lab rat now?"

"Don't worry, next time I kidnap you it'll just be to say hi and oogle your ass in spandex like always." Iron Man shot him a look, and Steve was near positive the man underneath was grinning.

"I take it back, being a lab rat is a nice change of pace."

"Good to know you missed me, darling." Iron Man patted his cheek.

"Missing you would imply that I enjoyed your presence in the first place." Steve snorted.

"Oh please, you love it." Iron Man circled him again. "I'm not some idiot teenager in over his head trying to rob a gas station; I know what I'm doing. You have to fight just to keep up with me, and that _excites _you."

"I'd be more excited to have you behind bars."

It was a lie. He didn't want it to be, but it was. He didn't want Iron Man behind bars; he wanted him on his side. There was no logical reason he should, no facts to back up the instinctual, gut feeling Steve had formed and clung to: Iron Man wasn't a villain. Not at his core. He had no casualties hanging over his head, no global terrorism charges, no take over the world plots. He was slaughtering big business, but Steve wasn't entirely clear on the ins and outs on what all that meant to begin with.

Thing was, if his suspicions were correct, SHIELD's interest in Iron Man had a hell of a lot more to do with the simple fact that he wasn't under their thumb. SHIELD didn't like being kept in the dark, and Iron Man delighted in doing so. They couldn't catch him, couldn't figure out his identity, and most importantly, they couldn't figure out his tech. If Iron Man had revealed his identity in the beginning, Steve was all but positive SHIELD would have been tripping over themselves to investigate him, get his expertise on their weapons tech, to bring him into the fold.

And Iron Man knew it.

"Would you be?" Iron Man mused, unoffended. "I don't think so. I think you'd be bored. What's your life like, Cap? Chase me down once a week, stop some petty theft in the meantime, return home to your quarters at SHIELD? I'm a challenge, and I like to think there's a part of you that appreciates that."

"Why supervillainy?" Steve neatly diverted the subject. "It's not exactly most people's first career choice."

"It certainly wasn't mine." Iron Man gave a mechanical snort of laughter. "But that's the way things go sometimes, mon Capitan."

"You never give me a direct answer about that. It doesn't sound like you set out to be this way. Who says you can't get a second chance—"

"What I've got planned goes a little beyond second chances, Cap." Iron Man chuckled darkly.

"What you've planned, not what you've done," Steve insisted. "You don't have to stay the course, Iron Man. I could help you—"

"Who says I want to be helped?" Iron Man cut him off again with a terse shrug. "You've got your mission; leave me to mine."

"You were smart enough to develop the Iron Man armor," Steve challenged, "And you're one of maybe ten people in the world who could develop something that could knock me unconscious. We could use intelligence like that. I've watched you operate, you go all in on these flashy explosions and trashy headlines but you're not _evil. _Why do you pretend to be? You're strong, intelligent, and I know you've got a heart in there somewhere—you could be so much more than you are."

Iron Man stared back at him, faceplate smooth and unreadable.

His answer never came. The warehouse erupted in gunfire as Clint and Natasha stormed in, and Steve found himself wishing they'd have waited just a few more moments. Iron Man didn't fight back this time, instead jettisoning away at the first sign of them, and Steve sighed.

"Let him go, odds are he's got the place rigged like last time if he's taking off so quickly." Steve nodded at Clint. "My strength's taking longer than usual to come back, I need your help picking the cuffs."

Clint freed him in a matter of seconds, and Steve rubbed his wrists.

"Alright, let's clear out. I need to get to medical, I can't remember anything since Friday afternoon."

"It's Sunday." Natasha looked at him sharply.

"Exactly," Steve muttered.

Nick was not happy at this turn of events. Steve's memory did trickle back, slowly but surely, but the idea that Iron Man could temporarily wipe his memory in the first place didn't sit well with Nick, who all but blew a fuse. The debrief went on for a dog's age, mostly a lot of yelling about how if they didn't catch this god damn son of a bitch soon there was going to be hell to pay while Natasha pretended to listen and Clint pretended not to be asleep and Steve pretended he wasn't doodling in the margins of his notes.

Same old, same old.

Steve probably should've been just as upset—it was his mind that had been wiped, after all—but he got the feeling Iron Man had meant for his memory to come back. He got the same feeling about Iron Man he always did, like he was just messing around with Steve for kicks, not out of any dark, evil intentions. Kidnapping him seemed to be a fun little side activity; blowing up the warehouses was his real goal, and Steve was more determined than ever to figure out why.

What was the end result of blowing up some warehouses? They were always devoid of people, so it wasn't killing he enjoyed. Nick had commented about how he was "slaughtering big business" before, but Steve wasn't entirely sure what that meant. The public seemed to hold the view that Iron Man was an ex-employee with a vendetta against capitalism in general, but Steve wasn't so sure about that either. It was possible, but it implied that Iron Man was unhinged, just going around blowing things up because he'd been fired, and Iron Man had never seemed anything but calculating.

It stood to reason that with all his intelligence, he would choose his targets with pinpoint precision.

He'd been keeping track of Iron Man's activities for months now, but for all his charts and diagrams, he couldn't uncover anything SHIELD hadn't already. Iron Man targeted a wide spread of companies without any discernible reason, but his two biggest targets were undeniable—Stark and Hammer Industries. Not notable in and of itself, since those were easily two of the biggest companies in the United States, but they were also both weapons companies.

Considering Iron Man was basically a giant weapon with a person inside, it wasn't a stretch to imagine that if he had once been affiliated with a company, it would've been with Stark or Hammer Industries. Both companies had the resources to design something like the Iron Man suit; could one of them have designed Iron Man as a prototype, and had it spiral out of their control? No, Nick was far too anxious to catch Iron Man for a cover-up to have gone unnoticed.

Steve's train of thought led him right back to where it always did: one person, acting alone, completing some personal mission. What mission could be so important he would become a supervillain to achieve it, but wouldn't tell Steve? Admittedly, it wasn't as if they were friends, but there was…_something _between them. They flirted and bantered and every once in a while, Steve was able to catch a glimpse of the man under the armor, if only for the briefest of moments.

Steve's head was starting to hurt when his phone beeped.

_Still wanna see a robot?_

He leaned back against the wall with a rueful smile. Tony. He'd let Iron Man mess with his head too long. Iron Man was his job, was a supervillain, was…not an option. Tony was _real, _was amazing, and was interested in him as a person instead of some spandex-covered figurehead.

Tony's robot was probably much cooler anyway.

_Of course._

_119 W 23__rd__ St, apt# 27_

_Now?_

_Got something better to do?_

Steve glanced around his quarters. Diagrams of Iron Man's targets were mapped out on his walls, news clippings of the attacks and the printed articles from when he'd first appeared were spread across his desk. Aside from his research though, there wasn't much: a dresser, a desk, a small bathroom with counters bare but for a bar of soap and a bottle of cheap shampoo. He'd been sent after Iron Man almost immediately after waking up, and he'd been easily the most interesting thing Steve had ever seen. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the mystery of Iron Man, he hadn't bothered with things like hobbies or friends; he hadn't bothered to develop a life here. Not until now.

_I'll be there soon._

* * *

Tony felt great.

Okay, he could only sort of remember Friday night, a blur of shots and karaoke and inducting Steve into their group, and all of Saturday was kind of hazy too, but more the lost-track-of-time-doing-science hazy than drunk-hazy. He should think about switching fields; he made a hell of a chemist when he wanted to. He'd created a drug strong enough to temporarily wipe _Captain America's _memory, who else could say that?

To be fair, not many others had tried, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that between partying with his friends Friday, science-ing away his Saturday, and playing supervillain to Cap's superhero this morning, all in all he'd had a fucking fantastic weekend. Not to mention he could cross another StarkIndustries double-dealer off his list; he was getting close.

He felt so great, he decided to share the mood. All his tech was safely locked away on the Iron Lair—yeah, it was a stupid name; it was also funny, fuck off—so he couldn't exactly show Steve his awesome workshop, but JARVIS would probably be more than enough to impress him.

Tony had moved to an apartment back when all this began, nice and clean but nothing special, using it more for cover than anything else. He spent most of his time in the Iron Lair working on the suit or fucking around in the lab, and since it had a bed, bathroom, and small but functioning kitchen, he only really came to the apartment when he needed to keep up appearances for something, usually his and Clark's game nights, or on the rare occasion Rhodey was in town and could drop by.

He'd still installed JARVIS though. Partially because Rhodey and Pepper would immediately know he didn't live there if he didn't, mostly because even if he only spent minimal time there, he wasn't used to things being so _quiet._

As soon as Steve texted back—_I'll be there soon—_Tony realized he was still dirty from his morning fight with Cap. He took a lightning fast shower, before spending an absolutely ridiculous amount of time changing clothes. He'd finally settled on his favorite band shirt—a good excuse to introduce Steve to AC/DC—and his best pair of jeans when his phone buzzed again.

_Door code?_

_#5779_

Tony finished yanking on his jeans and tried to figure out what to do with himself. Should he go open the door? Would that be weird? Should he just sit on the couch? Also weird. He could pretend he was watching tv, that was good—

Steve knocked on his door before he could cross the room.

"JARVIS, you're on mute until I've warmed him up to the idea. If you greet him without warning, his pretty little Amish head might explode."

"Lovely imagery as always, sir."

"Hey, Steve!" Tony opened the door instead of responding to JARVIS' snark.

"Who were you talking to?" Steve asked curiously, peering over Tony's shoulder.

"JARVIS, he's…" Tony waved a hand, gesturing for Steve to come in. "Well, I'll explain in a minute, come inside first. I've got water, a fuckload of coffee…oh, and I think Clark left some orange juice behind last time he crashed here. You want something?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Steve toed off his shoes, polite as ever. "Does uh, Clark crash here often?"

"Yeah, we have video game tournaments. We're pretty competitive about not being the one to call it quits first though, so instead we usually just play until we both pass out on the couch. He claims he can't play without getting 'juiced up' though, so he always brings orange juice and forgets it in the morning."

"Sounds like him." Steve laughed.

"Okay, so, JARVIS." Tony clapped his hands together eagerly. "First, to properly understand my genius here: do you know what an AI is?"

"Artificial intelligence, right?"

"Right. Now, generally speaking, AI capabilities are pretty slim at the moment. As far as public consumption goes, the best they can do is maybe Dum-E. Possibly Butterfingers and You, but they can't—"

"Me?"

"No, You. I mean, You, capital Y, it's his name. He, Dum-E, and Butterfingers are my other bots."

"Those aren't very nice names." Steve raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"They aren't very smart bots." Tony grinned. "Which is my point. Dum-E especially, I made him when I was seventeen and wasted off my ass and it totally shows—"

"You made an artificially intelligent robot as a drunken teenager?" Steve's eyes boggled. "That's _brilliant, _Tony."

"Well." Tony would deny to his grave the heat he felt on his cheeks just then. It wasn't like he hadn't been called brilliant a million and one times before. Steve was just looking at him so…earnestly. He was impressed like Tony had wanted him to be, but there was also this look in his eyes, something like pride, like he was glad to know Tony or something else ridiculous and mushy. "You know. Boring weekend, I had to spice it up somehow."

"Where are they?" Steve looked behind Tony excitedly, and Tony stifled a laugh at his eagerness.

"Storage, unfortunately." Or an invisible plane in the sky. Same difference. "I'll show you them another time. JARVIS totally kicks their asses anyway. You think Dum-E makes me brilliant, prepare to be blown away. JARVIS, give me Dum-E's specs to play with."

"Of course, sir."

Steve startled minutely at JARVIS' voice, then again when Tony threw out his hands and the blue holographics came to life. They flickered and danced around his hands as usual, pre-programmed to correspond with his every twitch. He played with the specs a bit, pulling the holographic Dum-E apart idly, more interested in watching Steve's face than what he was actually doing.

Steve was utterly amazed. His mouth hung open in wordless wonder, his eyes darting around the room, trying to track every movement.

"And might I add that it's good to meet you, Mr. Robinson?"

Steve startled out of his stupor, and Tony glared up at his AI.

"I told you not to talk to him directly until I warmed him up, J, what the hell?"

"I apologize, sir, the parameters of 'warmed up' were unclear."

"That's fantastic," Steve murmured, wide eyes drifting to the ceiling, "It's like he's…"

"Real, right?" Tony grinned proudly. "That's the point of Artificial Intelligence. JARVIS is, for all intents and purposes, sentient. He learns, he adapts; he's the closest thing to human technology has ever gotten. He can't disobey my direct orders—otherwise you've got a recipe for Terminator all over again—but he sure as hell loves to wiggle his way around them."

"I'm only as sneaky as my creator, sir."

Steve gave a snort of laughter, and Tony gave one of indignation.

"I'll rewire you, don't think I won't."

"I like him." Steve just smiled at their banter. "What's a terminator?"

"Oh, we are so having a movie night." Tony grinned right back. "JARVIS? Load up Terminator—"

"What, now?" Steve looked surprised.

"If you want to see it, I mean," Tony quickly back-tracked, "I'm not going to force you, or anything. I know you only came over to see the robots, and I didn't even really show you a robot, I showed an AI, but he's definitely cool, right? If it helps, I have _the _best entertainment system in New York, you should at least try it, and really, it's for your own education—"

Steve, mercifully, stopped him from talking with a hand on his wrist and a disarming smile.

"I'd love to."

* * *

Steve was becoming far too used to waking up kidnapped.

His first response to waking up in an unknown location was to test his restraints, which, considering his hands were in his lap and not tied behind his back, was sort of confusing. He was still unclear on his exact circumstances when something to his left began to snore. He nearly leapt out his skin, but whoever it was just curled closer and began drooling on his shoulder.

Tony.

The messy hair was his first clue, but even in the darkness the man's features were unmistakable to Steve. He really needed to stop sketching Tony so much. On Tony's enormous television, the credits were rolling for Terminator 3—or maybe 4, if the marathon had continued after he'd fallen asleep—and the rest of the night came back to him.

Tony had popped popcorn and they'd settled in, Steve swearing he could only stay for one movie, Tony swearing he wouldn't complain about the unrealistic parts. They'd both broken their promises, though Steve hadn't minded Tony's complaints. The movies had been interesting, but Tony's commentary much more so. He'd also explained parts Steve hadn't understood, which had been helpful.

There was a bit of a crick in Steve's neck from the way he'd fallen asleep in spite of Tony's excessively plush couch, but with Tony's head resting on his shoulder Steve was loathe to move. He was comfortable. Tony was warm against his side, and if he angled his head right he'd be perfectly fine sleeping right where he was. That was sort of rude though, wasn't it, to just spend the night like that? They'd hit it off, certainly, but they'd really only known each other a week after all. Even if it didn't feel like a week.

He didn't want to wake Tony though. It didn't seem like the man got much sleep. He drank at least three cups of coffee in first period alone, and was always talking about what he'd stayed up working on the night before, some new programming thing or a new experiment for class or something he'd fiddled with until four in the morning for the hell of it. With the amount of caffeine Tony ingested, Steve supposed it was a miracle if he slept at all.

He sat there a moment, contemplating his options, before a thought occurred to him.

"JARVIS? Can you hear me if I whisper?"

"Certainly." The AI's tone was equally muted, something Steve was grateful for. Tony didn't seem to be particularly a light sleeper if the snoring was any indication, but better safe than sorry. "Is there something I might assist you with, Mr. Robinson?"

"Tony doesn't get much sleep, does he?" Steve mused.

"Sir is not particularly well known for keeping a normal schedule."

"I didn't think so." Steve chuckled. "I should probably let him sleep, then. Do you think Tony would mind if I stayed? I might wake him if I move."

"I can assure you that you are more than welcome to stay, Mr. Robinson."

"Thank you. And just Steve is fine, JARVIS." Steve smiled in the general direction of the ceiling. He was unsure if JARVIS could "see" him, or if he was even capable of appreciating the gesture of a smile, but decided it was good manners anyway.

"As you please."

* * *

"Tony?"

"Mmph. Sleeping. Go 'way."

"Um, Tony, we have class. In less than an hour."

"What?" Tony cracked one eye open warily. Someone was leaning over him on the couch; sunny blonde hair, curious blue eyes, and tits bigger than his last underwear model one-nighter. Oh, hey, it was Steve. "Why are you in my apartment? Am I hallucinating again?"

"No." Steve seemed to be trying to hide a smile. "We fell asleep watching movies. I didn't want to wake you, and JARVIS said it was alright if I stayed…I hope you don't mind?"

"Like I care." Tony snorted, rolling over and summoning the energy to push himself off the couch. "Mi casa es su casa. Seriously, you can crash here whenever, you're good company and I've got plenty of space. We should take the bed next time though, I'm too fucking old to be sleeping on the couch."

"Oh. Um." Tony glanced up at Steve in time to watch his face go a very interesting shade of pink. "Okay."

Oh. He'd said 'we', hadn't he? Fuck mornings.

"My bad, I meant to say I, as in, I should take the bed next time. You can take the couch if you want. Or the bed, whatever works for you, it's big enough for two and god knows I don't give a fuck. How about you just do whatever you want and ignore my general lack of coherency, okay? Okay. Good plan. Is it just me, or is it disgustingly early right now? Jesus fuck. Where the hell is my coffee, JARVIS?"

Steve was smiling now, seemingly amused by his rambling, so Tony figured he'd managed to successfully divert the awkward train.

"As always, sir, I must remind you that as you have not provided me with a body, you are required to leave your current location and seek it yourself."

"Oh, I can make you some." Steve stood up, making towards his kitchen. Tony was about to ask Steve to marry him when JARVIS rudely interrupted.

"Indulge him at your own peril, Mr. Robinson; if brought his coffee sir is not likely to leave the couch."

"Oh fuck you, you stuck-up twat." Tony threw a pillow at the ceiling petulantly. Steve graciously caught it before it fell back and hit him in the face.

"I have to admit I see his logic." Steve chuckled. "And I told you to call me Steve, JARVIS."

"My apologies, Steve."

"Great, you're already teaming up on me. First name basis and everything." Tony rolled over again, burying his face in the couch. "Fucking fantastic."

"Tony, we now have less than forty-five minutes to get to class—"

"Wow, look at me, I'm up early today—"

"This is early?" Steve blinked in surprise.

"Sir did numerous experiments and found he only requires an average of 17.23 minutes to be prepared. With the addition of a 4.41 minute car ride, he finds waking up a half hour before class suitable."

"You're something else, Tony." Steve shook his head with a smile. Then, with an interested quirk of his head. "Why's he English?"

"Who, JARVIS?" Tony opened his mouth to offer one of the standard, easy answers he always gave. 'It was funny', 'you know me and my kinks', 'so was the guy I stole him from', anything to deflect. Before he realized it, the truth fell out instead. "The real Jarvis was."

"Real?"

Tony resisted the urge to rub a hand over his face. God damn it. It was too fucking early for this shit. Well, in for a penny…he rolled over and sat up with a tired sigh.

"As I'm sure you've pieced together, my family was kind of rich, to put it mildly. We had a butler. Jarvis. He, uh." Tony cleared his throat. "Died. A while ago. I know it sounds stupid, poor little rich boy with a sob story about his butler, but, um. He meant a lot to me. Basically raised me when dear old dad didn't want to, so. When I perfected the coding for a wicked smart AI, I named it JARVIS, told everyone it stood for 'Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System', and gave him an English accent like the original Jarvis had. So to answer your question, it's just a joke. A stupid one. On myself."

Tony was making a very concentrated effort not to make eye contact with Steve at the moment, but that sort of failed when Steve sat down on the couch next to him, putting a hand on Tony's arm.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

It should be illegal to look that fucking sincere.

"Right, well." Tony cleared his throat again. "Like I said. Long time ago, not really an open wound or anything."

"I know." Steve pulled him into a sideways sort of hug. Tony froze. "But you shouldn't call it a 'rich boy sob story', either. You lost someone you cared about. That's awful no matter what you've got in your checking account."

"Um."

Tony was, admittedly, flustered. He tried to remember the last time he'd gotten a hug that wasn't a precursor to sex. He was more than a little humiliated to come up blank. He was a touchy person, too—handshakes, pats on the back, grabbing someone's arm or hand. It wasn't like he was bereft of human contact, or anything. Really.

He just couldn't fucking remember.

"Sorry." Steve pulled away with a flustered look of his own. "I didn't mean to invade your space. I'm a bit of a hugger, Bucky always complained—"

It was Steve's turn to look traumatized.

"Who's Bucky?" Fuck, bad question, if the look on Steve's face was anything to go by. Jesus, was he having a panic attack? "Nevermind, forget I asked, it's early, I run my mouth a lot, feel free to ignore any and all of what I say, seriously, please stop looking like that, you shouldn't have to look like that, uh, um, here."

Tony hugged him.

It was awkward and an impulse and the only thing he could think of. Instead of flinching and freezing up like Tony had, Steve just melted into the hug, slumping forward to let his forehead rest on Tony's shoulder. He tried not to think about how warm Steve's arms were around him, how unfairly comfortable Steve was, or wonder why he didn't do this more often. Like maybe always.

"So." Tony patted Steve on the back once, abruptly breaking the hug to stand. "I'm gonna go shower. If I'm quick I'm sure we can both fit one in. Feel free to dig through my closet in the meantime, see if anything fits you, otherwise you're kind of stuck with what you got. Rifle through the bathroom if you want too, you're welcome to my brush or whatever, and I know I've got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Cool? Cool."

Tony made to disappear into the bathroom before Steve could say anything else, but Steve caught his wrist.

"Thank you. For not asking."

"Yeah. Anytime." Tony tried not to wince at how stupid he sounded, and quickly made his exit.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint was brooding.

He knew he was brooding, because Natasha was giving him a look, but he couldn't help it. These were exceptional circumstances. These were Captain-America-is-stealing-my-best-friend circumstances.

"Clark." Natasha warned him. Clint grumbled something unintelligible into his beer. It might've been along the lines of "fuck off", but he valued his balls too much to say it with any clarity.

"You seem quieter than usual." Pepper raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do _you_ think of Mr. Perfect over there?" He probably shouldn't open that can of worms, but he was halfway to drunk and his tongue was loose.

"Who, Steve?" Pepper turned to look at the man in question.

Though Steve had protested wildly as per usual, Tony had managed to haul him up on stage, also as per fucking usual, and they were now belting "Livin' On a Prayer" in spite of Steve's complete inability to follow along or keep a tune. Not that Tony was doing much better, considering he probably would've fallen off the stage five minutes ago without the arm Steve had looped around his waist to keep him upright, also per usual.

They both looked disgustingly happy.

"He's very charming, in an earnest, puppy dog sort of way." Pepper tapped a finger against her glass with a shrug. She'd joined them in drinking since Mr. Perfect McAngelface always offered to be designated driver so he'd have an excuse not to drink. "Funny, too, and his students adore him. I like him."

"Of course you do." Clint scowled. "But what about him'n Tony?"

"Are you asking if I'm jealous?"

Pepper seemed more amused than anything else, which made sense. Pepper and Tony had made it clear that they'd tried dating and that it hadn't taken; Clint knew better than anyone. He'd asked Tony about it, and Tony had waved him off. He and Pepper would always be close, but there wasn't anything romantic there anymore.

"Excuse us a moment." Natasha took Clint's arm and hauled him to his feet, no room for argument. "Clark needs some drying out."

"Alright." Pepper seemed a little bewildered, but didn't follow them.

"Get ahold of yourself," Natasha ordered once they'd stepped outside the bar.

"I am ahold'a myself," Clint muttered.

"You've been brooding all night."

"I just…"

He didn't know how to finish that sentence. Tony was…Clint shook his head. It was so fucking stupid. He'd long come to terms with his job. Being a spy, working for SHIELD, it didn't leave him with a whole lot of wiggle room for things like friends. He had his job, he had his team, and that was enough.

But this stupid assignment had messed with his head. He _liked _Tony and Pepper. He could be flip about it, but he'd honestly enjoyed the time he'd spend undercover with them. They had a good dynamic, the four of them; Tony and Pepper had their previous relationship and Natasha and Clint had theirs, but Clint and Tony were bros and Pepper and Natasha were attached at the hip and together they all just...fit. In spite of all the convoluted reasons they shouldn't have worked, they did.

Tony and Pepper were the only normal friends Clint had. Natasha and Phil were his friends of course, and when he wasn't feeling drunk and jealous so was Steve, but they weren't normal. He trusted Nat and Phil more, naturally, but they weren't _normal. _They couldn't ever just relax together without it being undercut by SHIELD or a mission or _something._

With Tony, he could just hang out. They could play pranks and drink each other stupid every Friday and cheat at Mario Kart until four in the morning. They could complain about how idiotic teenagers were and Tony could tell him that in her own quiet, terrifying way Nat was totally into him and Clint could reassure Tony that in his own weird, threatening way Phil actually thought Tony was pretty fucking funny.

It _worked._

If he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't Steve that was the problem. Hell, he liked Steve. He'd been working with the guy for almost a year now, capturing bad guys and chasing down supervillains and running missions. He'd even learned to follow Steve's orders in the heat of battle, something Clint didn't do easily. Sure, the guy could be obnoxiously perfect at times, but he was alright.

Not to mention Tony was a grown ass man. He was more than capable of balancing more than one friend, more than capable of balancing whatever flirtationship thing he had going on with Steve—and wasn't _that _fucking weird, Steve-old-fashioned-40's-man-Rogers clearly reciprocating Tony's advances—with his other friendships. It wasn't that Clint thought he was losing Tony to Steve, though he'd have liked to blame it on that.

His friendship with Tony had always had an expiration date; Steve was just a reminder of how imminent that date was.

"It's a mission." Natasha took him by the shoulders, shaking him from his thoughts, and Clint found himself sobering fast. "In another semester, we leave. We don't come back. We don't talk to them again. We likely never see them again. It's a _mission, _Clint."

For all her big words, she did understand. He could see it in her eyes. They'd both fallen in just a step too deep. Not enough that it was irrevocable, not enough that it would stop them from following orders, from leaving like they always did. Just enough to make it painful.

"Yeah."

Clint let himself be led back inside.

"He makes Tony lighter," Pepper said in greeting when they joined her at the table.

She wasn't looking at them, busy watching Tony and Steve on stage. They were stumbling around, laughing too hard at something one of them had said to sing more than every other verse or so.

"Lighter?" Natasha questioned as they sat down.

"You asked what I think of Steve's…thing, with Tony." Pepper waved a hand. "Whatever it is they've been doing these past few weeks. And that's what I think. That business with Afghanistan…he obviously hasn't been the same since. It's understandable, of course, but it still hurt to see him like that. It helped when he started working here. Teaching helped, I think, and he likes it, but you two did the most. He wouldn't be in the place he is without you, and then Steve came along and…he just makes Tony…lighter. Happy in a way I'm not sure he was even before Afghanistan."

Clint glared at his beer. He knew he was being selfish. When he wasn't drunk, he was happy for Tony. For Steve, too, since the same thing held true for him. What Pepper was saying, about Tony being lighter? Clint got that. He'd seen it in Tony, but he'd also seen it in Steve. They'd only met, what, a couple weeks, almost a month ago now, but the change had been incredible.

Steve used to spend all his free time in his quarters, researching Iron Man and waiting on a mission. These days, he was almost never at SHIELD; officially speaking they didn't keep tabs on him off the premises, but Clint would bet every penny he had Steve spent his free time with Tony.

It was a good thing. It was. Clint washed his bitterness about losing this strangely awesome double life down with the rest of his beer, then made his way to the stage.

"Hey dickface." Clint slung an arm over Tony's shoulder. "Got room for one more?"

"Hell yeah, assfuck, get in here." Tony wrapped his free arm around Clint's waist. "Whadda ya thinkin'?"

"A classic." Clint leaned forward enough to change the song with his free hand, flicking through the options until he found what he was looking for. "You sober enough to rock this with me?"

The guitar riff began to filter through the shitty sound system, and Tony whooped loudly, throwing both arms in the air. He unbalanced himself instantly, but when Steve and Clint each moved to catch him, he just pushed their hands away.

"No no no, fuck you guys, I totally got this, no way I'm not rockin' this shit."

"I'll let you guys, uh, rock, I can sit this one out—" Steve started to make excuses, heading off the stage.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Clint took Steve by the arm, pulling him back. "Don't pretend you don't know how to air guitar, no way Stark hasn't taught you."

Steve gave a guilty-as-charged smile, and Clint just grinned as they each began their air guitar solos in time with the music. Sure, his friendship with Tony had an expiration date. He would deal. It wasn't Steve's fault, and in the meantime, there was no reason he couldn't enjoy his time with them both.

_Rising up, back on the street / took my time, took my chances / went the distance, now I'm back on my feet / just a man, and his will to survive…_

* * *

Steve wasn't sure exactly how often most people texted, but he got the feeling that it wasn't quite as often as he texted Tony.

He should probably stop, or at least slow down. Play it cool, right? That's what Bucky would've advised, no question. Not that Bucky would've known what texting was, but he'd always been the smooth one, letting the dames chase circles around him before taking his pick.

Steve…well, he'd never been quite like that. He'd always been a one dame—well, person—kind of guy. Like with everything else in his life, he had a tendency to decide something and stick to it come hell or high water; whether he'd meant to or not, there was no denying he'd chosen Tony.

He just felt _better _around Tony. Tony was fascinating, intelligent and funny and always ready with some kind of witty comment or obscure reference. In spite of all his charm and charisma, he was goofy, too; he didn't take himself too seriously, at least not all the time, and Steve could use that in his life. Being around Tony made him happier than he'd felt in a long time, even before the ice.

Steve knew full well he had a tendency to get attached long before it was probably proper, but he knew in a way he couldn't quite put to words that he wasn't alone. Tony seemed to feel just as connected as he did, just as interested in Steve as he was in Tony. Tony texted first more often than not, and he seemed more than happy with the fact that for going on a month now, they without discussion and almost without fail spent their free period in each other's classrooms. Even when all Tony did was make lesson plans or grade tests, he never failed to come sit by Steve's desk, biting his pen and rearranging lessons or slashing incorrect answers with enthusiasm, always showing Steve the ones he considered particularly inane.

Steve tried to just do grading, but Tony's class was far too interesting for him to ever just sit there and grade papers. Tony was a captivating teacher, always going a hundred miles an hour, ready with some hilarious story or ridiculous anecdote to fill any empty space. He was enthused about his subject, and it showed in the way his eyes lit up as he talked, the way he gesticulated wildly with his hands. Nine days out of ten he had some wild experiment planned anyway, and Steve would get swept up in helping Tony demonstrate.

He knew he was getting carried away. He knew it was just supposed to be an undercover gig, knew Tony didn't even know his real name, knew there was no good way for this all to come to an end, but…he couldn't quite bring himself to stop it, either.

Steve's phone buzzed, and he looked up guiltily; he was in the middle of a SHIELD meeting. He and Clint were leaving soon for a three day mission in New Mexico, something about abnormal readings and strange objects from space. Natasha and Phil were here too, but only to stay informed. The four of them couldn't all take a leave of absence at once, it'd be far too suspicious.

Nick was going on awfully long about the science of it though, and no one seemed to have noticed his phone vibrate…he gave in and checked it under the table.

_Bring a change of clothes to school tomorrow._

_Can't. I told you, I have a family reunion._

_Oh, right. Man, you're on vacation and Clark's got the flu…guess it'll have to wait._

_What do you need me and Clark for?_

_Every good experiment needs a lab rat. I'd ask Pepper or Natalie, but Pep would stab me with her heels and Nat would strangle me with my own intestines._

_That's not worrying at all._

_I kid, I kid. It's not that bad. You and Clark would just appreciate it more._

_Sure, Tony._

_Don't use that placating tone of text with me._

_Sure, Tony._

_You know, everyone says you're all puppy dogs and rainbows, but I know better. You're secretly a sarcastic little shit, aren't you?_

_That's it. You got me. My deep dark secret has been revealed at last._

_Can't hide from me, Robinson._

Steve instantly felt a curl of guilt low in his stomach. He felt a touch guilty almost anytime Tony called him Robinson, but particularly now. Because he _was _hiding, wasn't he? Not from him purposefully, but he was still clouded behind a fake name and a false identity. He tried to be as honest with Tony as he could in spite of everything, but that didn't change the fact that they were building a friendship, possibly even something more, on lies.

_Wouldn't want to if I could._

As soon as he sent it he had to resist the urge to groan. That sounded a lot sappier than he'd meant it to. Bucky would surely be laughing hysterically if he could see Steve now. He'd only meant to say something that would hint at how sorry he was that he had to lie, not sound like he'd been reading dime store romance novels. He waited for the inevitable: _Who knew you were such a sap, Robinson? _Or maybe _What's that supposed to mean? _Or, perhaps in fears Steve couldn't quite manage to ignore, _What the hell? Is that supposed to be a come on? What are you, a nancy boy? _Yeah, okay, Tony wasn't likely to say the last one, but that knowledge didn't do much to quell Steve's irrational worries.

_I wouldn't either._

Steve barely had the time to read it before Tony texted him again.

_Shit happens and life gets complicated, but, you know. I wouldn't mean to. Or want to. Whatever, you get what I mean._

Steve got it all too well.

_I understand._

_You always seem to. Are we sure you can't read minds? Maybe you're a mutant. That'd be a pretty cool superpower._

_I think if I could read minds hanging around with you would give me too much of a headache._

_That's hurtful, Steven, very hurtful._

_I'm sure. What would yours be, then?_

_Science, obviously. Better than any superpower. Which you would learn, if you came to my awesome experiment tomorrow._

_Your last "experiment" ended with you shouting "for science!" and launching a modified water rocket at Phineas._

_He was so asking for it._

_He was halfway across campus._

_He keeps bragging about how he's got the only complete Captain America trading card collection on the east coast! Which is such bullshit, he only even has a complete collection because I sold him what he was missing._

Steve had to pause, a frown inching across his features. Tony had his trading cards? He wouldn't have pinned Tony as a fan. He'd liked it better when Tony thought Captain America was nothing but a yutz in tights; adoring fans were always so horrifically awkward to navigate.

_You're a Captain America fan?_

_Eh. _

For someone who talked so much, his answer told Steve frustratingly little. He tried a different tactic.

_Why'd you sell the cards?_

_It got kind of weird once the guy turned out to be alive. I mean, he's just a soldier in tights. On steroids, but, y'know. Still just a soldier._

It was a good thing Tony wasn't actually present, because Steve was relatively sure he wouldn't have been able to _not _kiss him in that moment. In lieu of telling Tony that, he settled for a joke.

_They weren't weird when he was dead?_

_Well, I didn't think of him as "some dead guy". He was just another superhero. 90% of his comics were bullshit anyway. The comic book Captain America was about as fake as Batman or Superman or any other caped crusader._

_Really?_

_Hell yeah. My father worked with him back in the war. He said Cap didn't do half the shit the comics have him doing. He did have the same tendency to jump out of moving vehicles though._

Steve's snort of laughter didn't go unnoticed.

"Captain, I know you think yourself sly, but people far better at it than you have tried to text under that table." Nick gave a rumbling sigh. "The least you could do is not be so fucking obvious about it."

"Sorry, sir." Steve could feel his face flush. God damn it, he wasn't even here and Tony was getting him into trouble.

"Just tell your boyfriend you'll call him later." Phil suggested dryly.

It turned out he could blush harder.

"He's not—how could you just—it's against regulation—"

"The law you're stammering about has been repealed," Nick grunted, "That's all I have to say on the matter, and all I want to hear. It was a joke, soldier, I'm sure they had those back in your day."

Steve resisted the urge to mention they sure as hell didn't make jokes about soldiers having boyfriends in his day, understanding that it was probably a topic best left alone altogether. He'd been informed that the public at large no longer considered it immoral to be homosexual, but he hadn't been aware that government operations like SHIELD had followed suit. They'd only glossed over the issue when they'd briefed him, probably assuming the details were unnecessary to the obviously purely heterosexual Captain America.

Steve might've been a little bitter about how certain people perceived his image.

"Now, R&D has some new toys for you all, but before we get to that I've got another announcement. Since it's about Stark, can I expect you'll stop grinning at your glowing crotch long enough to hear me out, Captain?"

"Uh." Embarrassed to be caught again, Steve quickly finished his _I have to go, text you later _and snapped his phone shut. "Yes, sir. What about him?"

"I'm going to ask him to come in and do some consulting work for us, so he'll be around for the next week or two." Steve startled, but Nick just kept talking as if he hadn't noticed. "Agent Coulson will be staying out of the building, but since you three live here, you've got two options—we can get you temporary apartments until he's gone, or you can stay here. If you choose to stay, you're expected to be in costume at all times, hoods and all, any time you're out of your quarters. Don't speak unless spoken to; try not to even look at him. Our uniform department put a lot of effort into making sure you're not particularly recognizable, but let's not test that theory."

"What do you mean, he'll be around?" Steve frowned, glancing to Clint and Natasha, who didn't seem half as surprised. "Consulting? What for?"

"You really haven't researched him, have you?" Clint was giving Steve a strange look.

"He asked me not to. Why would I?" Steve shot Clint a look right back. "He has just as much of a right to privacy as anyone else."

"Stark wouldn't know privacy if it gave him a lap dance." Nick snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve frowned at Nick.

"Stark's entire life has been in the news at one point or another." Phil shrugged.

"One google search and you can learn everything from his first word to the age he lost his virginity." Clint snickered. "Come to think of it, I think the first porn I ever watched was one of his sex tapes—"

"Wha—_stop." _Steve sputtered, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Suddenly, Steve had an inkling why Tony had been so excited to discover Steve hadn't heard of him.

"What?" Clint protested.

"Don't tell me those things. It's not…" _Fair. _It sounded silly, and Steve managed to stop himself from saying it, but it was true nonetheless. It wasn't fair to Tony. He remembered what Tony had told in the parking lot, that very first Friday. _Let's just say it's not often I get to make a real first impression._ "Relevant. I wanted to know why you're asking him to come here—that's all."

"You know that Stark once owned StarkIndustries. You know StarkIndustries designs weapons." Natasha pointed out. "It's not hard to come to the conclusion that he used to make weapons."

"I figured as much." Steve nodded, though images of Tony in some kind of _sex tape, _whatever that was, still danced in his head. He couldn't sort his emotions on it; he was confused that Tony would do something like that, not to mention embarrassed on his behalf, but there was definitely a guilty curiosity in there as well. Steve tried to stay focused. "And I know that he made the decision to stop."

"But what you don't know," Nick told him, "Is that he was—still is—the best in the world at it. Bar none. Tony Stark takes genius to an unprecedented level, and his area of expertise happens to be something we could sure as hell use."

"All those cracks he makes about being a genius?" Clint snorted. "Not cracks. Not even close."

"We haven't asked for his help before for a number of reasons, largely because he made it pretty damn clear he's out of the weapons game—"

"And he's a pain in my ass," Phil muttered.

"—but we're running out of options." Nick shot Phil a look. "This situation in New Mexico…if it's anything close to what I think it is, we're going to need that kind of firepower. Iron Man has made it more than clear he doesn't want to get involved with us; next best thing can do is reverse-engineer him and suit up one of our own in something similar."

"Reverse-engineer…take it apart, you mean? How could he do that if we don't have it?" Steve settled for pointing out the flaw in Nick's plan, but the truth was, he didn't even like the idea of Tony and Iron Man so much as in the same sentence.

Loathe as he was to admit it, there was…something, between him and Iron Man. Nothing as real as what he could have with Tony, but he wasn't blind to his own emotions. He'd been chasing after the supposed villain for almost a year now; guilty as he felt about it, he knew going after Iron Man gave him a thrill, knew that underneath all their fight and banter there was…something. Nothing he could put into words, nothing concrete or even logical, but something nonetheless.

"He's Tony Stark." Nick snorted, as if that was all that need be said. "I'd bet good money he's already figured it out. That man never did see a machine he didn't want to take apart."

"I suppose."

Steve still didn't like the idea, but there wasn't much else he could say.

* * *

Tony was pretty sure his strange double life couldn't get much weirder.

What had started out as an act, giving up his hedonist playboy lifestyle for a normal, calm life as a teacher, was now questionable. It wasn't that he didn't _miss _parts of his old lifestyle—Tony was always going to be a spend first, ask questions later kind of guy—but that was just it. He only missed parts, and not the parts people probably would've expected. Not even the parts _he _would've expected.

He missed his kickass house. He missed being able to just walk down to his workshop, instead of having to fly up to some camouflaged plane. He missed the freedom to do whatever he wanted without worrying about Stane watching his every move.

Surprisingly, though, he didn't miss the parties. Or having gorgeous women in his bed—he really thought he'd miss that one, but aside from getting reacquainted a bit with his right hand, it wasn't much of hardship. He didn't even really miss the booze. He still drank, obviously, but it was in low doses and with good company instead of a dozen shots with half naked women wanting his dick and skeezy businessmen wanting his credit card.

It was a very different experience.

Alcohol had always been a balm of sorts, a way to forget how much he fucking hated himself, but…it was a terrifying thing to realize, but he was _happy,_ for maybe the first time in his life. He liked not having to always be on for the reporters and fans and executives, to be able to just kick back and play pranks on Clark and tease Natalie and goof off with Steve.

He'd never really had friends to pay attention to before. Pepper was always around regardless, and Rhodey only got a few weekends off a year, which was easy to clear. Clark, Natalie, now Steve…he liked spending time with them, and it'd be hard to do that if he was up to his ears in tits and tequila.

He was content with the way things were, and he wasn't sure what that meant for his future. He still wanted more than anything to get his revenge on Stane and regain control of his company, but he was going to miss this low-key life more than he would've ever expected.

He had no idea what to do about it, either. His double life was getting complicated, made even _more _so by Steve's generally wonderful existence and Tony's startlingly strong desire to keep him around for as long as humanly possible, but as with most things, it could always get worse.

"Your country needs you, Stark."

"I'm not a soldier," Tony spat into the line, not needing to fake the fire behind it, "Don't give me that enlistment crap. How the hell did you get this number, anyway?"

"Never lost it."

So Nick Fury, old friend to his father and backer of the Cap Squad, was finally calling him in.

Tony had known the day would come, though he'd have expected something big to happen before it did. Maybe there was something he didn't know about? He really ought to have a peek at SHIELD's files, but to do that he'd need inside access, and he couldn't risk Iron Man going in; too many variables, too many ways for things to go wrong.

"We're asking you to build us a soldier, not be one," Nick amended, "Iron Man may not be the most destructive villain we've encountered, but he's damned sure the hardest to catch."

Tony allowed himself a moment to preen, before giving Nick shit.

"You've let him run around blowing things up for a year without giving me a call. What's changed?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, Stark. Can you build us something similar or not?"

That was about as close to admittance as Nick Fury would probably ever come. Tony definitely needed to get into SHIELD's system. Iron Man couldn't get in without getting arrested and damasked, but if they let him inside their headquarters for even ten minutes…he needed to take the consulting job. Not without a little leverage first, though.

"Don't kid yourself, _can I_ was never the question here, Nicky."

"Always with the jokes. Aren't you at all interested in the capture of the person who's been tearing your company apart?"

"Not my company anymore." Tony shrugged, though Nick couldn't see him over the phone. "And I don't know if you heard, but my departure had a little something to do with not making weapons anymore. What if I manage to replicate this Iron Man suit, and the guy you put inside goes loco too? Then you've got two over-powered technovillains on the loose."

It took him maybe an hour, but they eventually managed to bang out a verbal agreement to which Tony graciously "conceded"…under one condition. He then waited a couple hours, banging around in the shop, until it was late enough that he knew his call would wake the other person up.

"Eyyy, Rhodey!"

"God, Tony, it's 2 in the morning, what could you possibly want?"

"What's that in the sky?"

"Tony, I told you not to drunk dial me anymore."

"It's a bird, it's a plane—"

"Are you _high_ right now? That's a new one, at least—"

"It's War Machine!"

"Alright, I'll bite, you maniac, what's a war machine?"

"It's your superhero name!"

"We've been over this, Tones, I'm a soldier, not a superhero, I don't need some stupid nickname—"

"How would you like to take out Iron Man?"

There was a long pause, probably as Rhodey's common sense fought with his curiosity. Then,

"I'm listening."

"SHIELD hired me to steal Iron Man's technology and create a better one. I said no, they pushed, I agreed on the condition that I got to choose who suits up. You're the best man I know, James, and a hell of a pilot. You're the only person I'd trust with this. You in?"

"…you had to call about this at _two in the morning?"_

"It's not cool and important and life-changing if it doesn't involve a call to action in the dead of the night!"

"You're insane, Tony."

"Is that a yes?"

"Hell yeah that's a yes."


	5. Chapter 5

Steve was bored.

Considering the parameters of his assignment, it was surprising; if intel was to be believed, he was supposed to fight and detain an extraterrestrial by the name of Thor today. He wasn't sure what he thought about that, about extraterrestrials and Norse gods and whatnot, but he had to admit he was excited at the prospect of a good fight.

It'd been far too long. Iron Man was all for giving them the slip, maybe shooting off a repulsor or two before blowing something up and disappearing into the night; he was too busy completing his "mission" and evading capture to give Steve a real fight. He wondered what Iron Man would say if he asked…he shook his head. God, he must really be bored if he was considering asking a supervillain for a spar.

It didn't matter anyway; this Thor would give him a good, hard fight if the reports were right. Steve was anxious for it, which made sitting around in the rain, watching a hammer and waiting for the guy to show up, well, boring.

"For fuck's sake, Steve, sit still," Clint muttered, adjusting his line of sight for the seventh time. Steve fidgety behavior seemed to be rubbing off on him. "You're a soldier, man, buck up."

"It's been six hours," Steve grumbled, "Never had to sit in a foxhole this long."

"Next time they ask if you can wait in my nest, my answer will be an immediate and resounding _no."_

"Your nest?" Steve glanced around. They _were_ pretty high up.

"Shut up," Clint grouched, but it was more good-natured than anything else. They got along well usually, had even had a number of three-way video game tournament's at Tony's, but they'd been stuck in way too small a space for way too long. "If you're bored, why don't you bug Tony?"

"He's sleeping."

"How on earth could you possibly know that?" Clint shot him a look. "Oh god, don't tell me Stark's make a stalker out of Captain America."

"Of course not." Steve frowned at the implication he would invade Tony's privacy that way. "JARVIS told me."

"What?" Clint abandoned any pretense of watching the hammer to stare at Steve.

"Tony thought he'd be helpful." Steve shifted under the weight of Clint's surprise. "I still don't get most pop culture references, and I don't always have time to sit down and watch the movie or listen to the song or whatever with Tony, so he went ahead and programmed JARVIS into my phone to answer that sort of thing. Then when I started to write a text to Tony earlier, JARVIS popped up to tell me Tony was asleep and if I didn't want to wake him I should try again later."

A long moment passed, during which Clint continued to stare. To be fair, it wasn't like Steve had_ asked _JARVIS to tell him if Tony was sleeping or not. He wasn't that creepy.

"And to verify, you _haven't _tied him down yet."

"What's thatsupposed to mean?"

"Don't play the innocent Capsicle card, you know what it means."

"Did you just use one of _Iron Man's nicknames?"_

"Oh come on, villain or not, you know some of them are pretty funny. And don't dodge the subject! Do you know how paranoid Tony is about his technology? He hoards it like a dragon hoards gold, and he installed his decades-ahead-of-the-public sentient robot butler in your phone just cause he thought you'd _like _it? What more of an 'I'm fucking crazy about you' from Tony Stark do you want?"

"Why does everyone _say _it like that?" Steve frowned. "You keep saying things like 'he's Tony Stark', as if that's supposed to mean something bad—"

"Look, you didn't grow up with him on the front cover of every magazine, okay? I like the guy, I really do—he's probably the best friend I've got these days. But I know what he was like before, too, and it wasn't always pretty. Tony was the definition of a hot mess. Commitment is new. Commitment without so much as a kiss to test the waters is revo-fucking-lutionary, okay?"

"We're not _committed _to anything—"

"Bullshit you're not. You spend your free periods in each other's class. You text more than teenage girls. We all know you practically live in his apartment. Not to mention it's four in the morning, and all you want to do right now is talk to him, isn't it?"

"I'm bored," Steve mumbled somewhat sullenly.

"But he'd be your first thought either way, wouldn't he?"

"That doesn't mean it's a good idea—"

"Look, yeah, okay, when it finally happens, your fluffy little love affair is going to make everyone else want to puke rainbows, but that doesn't matter; you can't _let _that matter. Steve, you two are so good for each other it's disgusting."

"I appreciate it, Clint, but it's more complicated than that." Steve shook his head with a sigh, and Clint snorted.

"Give me _one_ _good reason _you shouldn't go straight to Tony's after this, grab him by the shirt, and make his year."

"Because if he likes me at all—"

"Did the serum shrink your _brain—"_

"—he likes Steve Robinson."

An unbearably long silence stretched between them.

"Fuck." Clint blinked rapidly. "Why do I keep forgetting that?"

"You're not the only one." Steve wasn't blind to the wistfulness in his voice.

He didn't regret being a soldier. He didn't regret being born when he had, didn't regret growing up in the forties or having the experiences that had led him here, not by a long shot. Losing everything to the ice had been traumatic to say the least, but it was the people he missed—Bucky, the Commandos, Peggy. He treasured his memories of them, and he wouldn't trade them for anything. They'd made him the man he was, even if that man was now out of his time.

That didn't mean he didn't wonder what Steve Robinson's life would've been like.

He wondered what it would've been like to be the man Tony thought he was. To not be an out of place relic tangled in SHIELD's web, to not be a yutz in tights with a questionable relationship to a supervillain. To be simple.

To be an art teacher in love with the physics teacher down the hall, and able to tell him so.

"The superhero angle is new, but it's not like agents can't have relationships." Clint pointed out. "He'd have to sign a waiver, and you couldn't tell him much of anything about our missions, but—"

"You mean before or after I tell him I've been lying to him from the moment we met?" Steve leaned back against the railing. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't care much at the moment.

"He'd understand if you explained—"

"Think about it for a minute, really think about it; God knows I have." Steve gave a humorless chuckle. "I flash a waiver under his nose, ask him to sign it, then tell him I'm a biologically perfect super soldier from almost a hundred years in the past who puts on tights to fight crime on the weekends, and oh, by the way, would you maybe like to get dinner sometime? It's too _much, _Clint. I'm too much."

A moment of understanding passed between them, and Clint nodded once. They fell silent again until the call came.

"We've got incoming." Phil informed them over the com line. "Hawk, get him in your sights. Captain, hit the ground."

They didn't say a word as they separated, each instantly and easily reverting to mission mindset. Steve hopped up and over the railing, sliding down until he was at a low enough height to jump. He fell into a tuck and roll, taking cover behind one of the tents. He was more than game to fight this "Thor", but it was always good to scope out a new opponent unhindered for a minute or two first if the opportunity presented itself.

Thor was easy to spot, huge and blonde and clearly enraged, taking out agents left and right as he fought his way straight to the hammer in the middle of the clearing. Steve signaled for the agents to fall back as he abandoned his cover and stepped out to greet the supposed "god".

"That's SHIELD property." Steve kept his chin tall, his voice commanding. "You coming the easy way, or are we going to have a problem?"

"I have no quarrel with your kind." The man was rather commanding himself, not so much as flinching at Steve's sudden appearance. "But I do find them quite contradictory. You have stolen what is mine, yet it is you who threaten me?"

"No one stole anything. From what I hear, you dropped it."

"You test my patience, small man. Dare you challenge me still?"

"I never did learn how to back outta'a fight." Steve felt more than heard his Brooklyn accent creep in as he chewed the vowels of 'out of a' like bubblegum. He was getting excited, adrenaline already flooding his system.

It'd been a long, long time since anyone had called him small.

Thor threw the first punch, but it was loose, wild with anger. Steve dodged easily, ducking under Thor's wide swing for a gut punch the larger man took without so much as a flinch. Thor's elbow came down on the back of his neck, hitting a nerve with such force that Steve momentarily saw stars. He rolled with the blow though, shooting forward out of Thor's range temporarily, coming back for a one-two combination he'd used to take out more than a hundred Nazi's back in the day.

The classics didn't work well on his newest foe though, who ducked away from the first blow and grabbed his hand on the second, pulling him close for an uppercut that nearly knocked Steve flat off his feet. While he was still reeling, Thor shot forward for a headbutt. Steve appreciated his mixed style, but saw it coming just in time to bend backwards and use his momentum to turn it into a backflip. He used the flip to strike Thor twice, once with a kick to the stomach and again with a knee to the chin as he somersaulted away.

They circled each other a moment after that, each out of the others' range. Steve kept his shield up, while Thor wiped a hand across his bloody mouth, likely having bitten his tongue. Thor gave a strange, intrigued grin.

"Have you a name?"

"Steve Rob—Rogers. Steve Rogers."

"Peculiar. I am Thor, son of Odin. I admit my surprise at meeting a warrior of caliber in this realm."

"Back atcha." Steve grinned. "No chance I might convince you to work for the good guys?"

"The son of Odin works for no mortal."

"Too bad. We ought to go a few rounds again later though." With that Steve raised a hand, giving the signal.

Five tranqs buried themselves in Thor's neck.

"Five, Clint?" Steve raised an eyebrow, speaking into his com. "Really?"

"The guy looked like hippie elephant, be happy I didn't use ten."

Steve sighed, bent down to check Thor's pulse, then hauled him up over one shoulder and headed to the detainment center.

* * *

"Why isn't Robinson here?"

"Did you even pretend to raise your hand?" Tony rolled his eyes. Robert never raised his hand, but then, he rarely bothered to grace the class with his presence in the first place, so.

"No. Where is he? This is the third day in a row he hasn't come. That never happens." Robert was standing now, looking around the class like Steve was hiding somewhere.

"He's not stuck with you guys like me, y'know." Tony pointed out. "Maybe he got tired of your attitude."

"Bullshit, I'm totally his favorite."

It was true. Steve totally had a soft spot for the Downey kid, always making sure to pay extra attention to him when he showed up to class in hopes of encouraging him to continue coming to school. He was convinced that if Robert just had a good teacher, if he had a reason to like school, he wouldn't be such a delinquent. But then, Steve had a soft spot for lost causes.

"Wait, did you guys have a fight?"

"What?" Tony frowned. "No."

"Aw come on, just go apologize already and get him back," Robert complained, "Class is boring without him. We haven't even done an experiment."

"Would you sit down already?" Tony didn't like where this was going. "We didn't have a fight, he's out visiting family. And you know what, I resent the implication that—"

"What, that we're smart enough to know you're dating?" Robert snorted. "It's not rocket science."

"We're not fighting, we're not dating, and it'd be none of your business if we were doing either." Tony sighed. "I don't want to hear another word about it. Back to the topic at hand, we're working with waves and optics today, and there's a couple of equations you'll want to write down before we get started—_where _do you think you're going?"

"Robinson's room." Robert smirked cheekily, already halfway out the door. "I'm gonna tell him you're sorry so he'll take your dumb ass back and class can be fun again."

"Go ahead." Tony waved a hand, though he was gritting his teeth. "And when you're done discovering how wrong you are, you can keep on walking that 'dumb ass' of yours down to Cogman's office."

"Whatever." Robert just sneered, disappearing out the door.

"So!" Tony declared, clapping his hands together in an effort to move on from Robert's disruption as quickly as possible, lest the others get ideas. "Waves and optics! Someone give me a definition of either, and we can get the ball rolling here."

Though class moved on smoothly, Tony couldn't help but dwell on the fact that none of his other students had looked particularly surprised at anything Robert had been saying. Was he that obvious? If he was, did Steve know? And if Steve knew about his feelings but hadn't said anything…well, that was probably a pretty clear indication he wanted things to stay the way they were, wasn't it?

Not that Tony was willing to give up so easily, but…it still stung, and it still reminded Tony exactly how out of practice he was with this whole wooing thing. Hell, he was even pretty rusty at the actual dating part.

God, he felt old. What he needed was some good old fashioned engineering to take his mind off it. After his all-nighter Monday night and almost-all-nighter last night, he'd put together the finishing touches Rhodey's suit. It was a pretty fantastic ride if Tony said so himself—not Iron Man fantastic, but hey, nothing was—and he was sure Nick would be more than pleased with it.

It had a hidden, remote operated kill code even Nick's crack tech team shouldn't be able to find, just in case Rhodey ever got too close to unmasking him, but otherwise it should be able to hold its own and then some. The weapons were a couple marks back from what Iron Man had up his metaphorical sleeve, but that could be played off easily by the fact that theoretically Tony was building from scratch.

He'd been working in one of SHIELD's outposts so far, but now that he'd finished, he'd be moving to their main headquarters this afternoon for testing, and the potential to meet the Cap Squad up close and personal. Nick had said it'd be unlikely he'd bump into them, but Tony was determined to make the unlikely happen.

He had to admit, he was curious what Cap was like when he wasn't interacting with a supervillain. Would he be more open to Tony's advances? Not that he was interested in Cap, or anything—well, okay, what red-blooded human being _wouldn't _want into Cap's spandex, but that wasn't the point. He wasn't going to fuck the guy, he was just curious if he was more receptive to a non-supervillain, was all.

Purely scientific, clearly.

* * *

"So, there's this guy…" Rhodey drawled.

Tony spat out his coffee. Really, it was just a good thing he hadn't been holding a soldering iron or anything else dangerous, he would've without a doubt added another burn to his collection.

"What the fuck?" Tony answered elegantly. "Since when do you swing for my team, Rhodes?"

"I don't." Rhodey snorted. "That's how you begin this conversation, though."

"What conversation?"

"The conversation where you tell me who you're seeing, you sneaky little bastard."

Rhodey gave him the side eye, made slightly more intimidating by the fact that he was suited up in the War Machine armor minus a faceplate, and Tony was just in his ratty inventing clothes. Tony fidgeted under Rhodey's gaze, putting down his coffee and attempting to pocket his phone without Rhodey noticing.

"I'm not seeing anyone."

"You've been texting someone since the moment you walked in that door—yeah, I saw you put your phone away just now, smartass—and when you're not busy giggling like a teenage girl at whatever they said, you're grinning like a cat with a canary in its paws. Subtlety, thy name sure as hell ain't Stark."

"I did not _giggle."_

"If it makes you feel any better, it was a very manly giggle. I'm as disturbed as I am intrigued about how it came out of your mouth."

"I hate you."

"No you don't, which is why you're going to tell me all about the guy who's managed to get the unflappable Tony Stark in a tizzy."

"How do you know it's a guy? Maybe I'm sexting a gorgeous supermodel, and I laughed because I'm so fantastically lucky."

"It was a giggle, not a laugh, and you weren't horny, you were happy. Which is less and less the rarity it once was, but is still good to see. Not to mention I caught a glimpse of the picture id from here—don't even try to tell me the owner of that jawline is a woman."

"He does have a freakishly gorgeous jaw, doesn't he?"

"So what's gorgeous' name?"

"I haven't decided if I'm done hating you yet, try again later."

"C'mon Tones, I told you about Julia," Rhodey wheedled.

"Are you really comparing _him _to that trainwreck?"

"Well, I can't judge his character if you won't even tell me his name! You can't go around saying _'him'_ all important-like if you don't give me a little information to work with. Why're you being all secretive, is he your drug dealer or something?"

"_God _no." Tony snorted, finding the image of _Steve _of all people dealing crack in some back alley obscenely hysterical.

"Oh fuck, please tell me he's not a student."

"Give me _some _credit—"

"_Tony—"_

"He's not a student, Jesus! Calm down." Tony held his hands up innocently. "I swear on my life, he's totally legal."

"Older than those Maxim models from last year, I hope. I know they were technically legal, but you're pushing fifty man, it doesn't look good—"

"I am not _pushing fifty!_" Tony gave a disgruntled sound of indignation. "Stop saying that you jackass, someone's going to believe you. I'm thirty-six, I'm barely pushing forty."

"Wrong side of twenty-five to be dating cover models, all I'm sayin'." Rhodey grinned.

"Well, he's twenty-seven, so you can fuck off, thanks." Tony made a face.

"Ouch."

"The fuck does 'ouch' mean?" Tony glared. "He's older than twenty-five, you insensitive prick."

"Still. Little young, don't you think?"

"He's an old soul, okay?" Tony scowled.

"Well, since your soul's about five, I guess that works."

"If you're going to be an ass, I'm not going to talk about this—"

"Alright, alright. What's the old soul's name?"

Tony just made a complaining sort of groan in response. He let his head fall forward, eventually mumbling into the worktable, "His name is Steve."

"So what's he like?" Rhodey persisted, then, on second thought, "But stick to the clean stuff. I need to be way drunker than I am now for your sex stories."

"No sex to tell." Tony admitted into the table.

He didn't need to see Rhodey to know his eyebrows had just shot up to his hairline.

"Oh?" was all Rhodey said, but it was the smuggest 'oh' Tony had ever heard.

"Fuck off."

"So it's serious, then."

"…" Tony raised his head at last, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Theoretically."

"Oh my god."

"Rhodey, if you're going to be an asshole about this, I'm not going to tell you things anymore—"

"_You're not even dating?"_

"I have never wanted to punch you more. I hope you know that."

"You gotta let me meet this guy."

"Not on your life."

"Give me your phone."

"_Fuck _no—"

"Aw, I bet you save his texts and everything—"

"I am seriously considering setting you on fire and blaming it on a suit malfunction."

"You _do—"_

"Not on purpose!"

"How is it an accident?"

"I click delete and JARVIS says 'are you certain you wish to delete the entire history of your friendship with Steve' because he's an asshole and then I can't click yes after _that—_"

"Only you would invent a robot capable of becoming invested in your relationships."

"Both accounts are incorrect." JARVIS intervened. "I am incapable of investment or being an 'asshole'. However, all available data points to user Steve Robinson having the most positive effect on sir of anything or anyone I have noted to date. Sir eats healthier, sleeps more, works less, and is, by all human definitions, happier. As my primary coding is to ensure sir's wellbeing, I am all but required to encourage further interaction."

A silence stretched between them as Rhodey stared at Tony knowingly.

"So basically, your robot butler ships it."

Tony let his head hit the table again with a loud thunk.

* * *

Steve was utterly exhausted.

He hadn't slept at all during the mission, and between losing Thor—to another _realm, _no less—taking a red-eye flight back, and now sitting through a seemingly endless meeting, he'd certainly seen better days.

He understood the importance of the meeting, of course. Apparently while he and Clint had been gone, Tony had finished the War Machine armor. Steve had been a bit disappointed by that at first, since he'd been sort of guiltily hoping to "meet" Tony as Captain America, before Nick explained that Tony would still be around headquarters every Tuesday and Thursday for upgrades and consulting on other things, like improving the quinjets and assisting on the Helicarrier project. It meant being in full uniform all day every Tuesday and Thursday because Tony didn't really keep set hours, but Steve didn't mind if it meant he'd get a chance to bump into him and see Tony's reaction to Captain America.

In the meantime, he and Clint met with Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, Tony's long-time friend and chosen pilot. Nick gave Colonel Rhodes a quick briefing on their double identities at Midtown High so he knew not to blow their covers, before moving on to the team training he had planned for them. Though Nick moved on, Steve found he couldn't focus.

Probably because Colonel Rhodes kept _staring _at him.

He'd thought maybe hero worship at first—military men seemed particularly prone to it—but unless he was so tired he was getting paranoid—also a possibility—there was a very distinctly disapproving edge to it. He couldn't understand it; the Colonel had been nothing but pleasant when they'd first shaken hands.

Eventually Steve forgot about it in lieu of texting Tony under the table, though. He had to get through this meeting, and he could use a hot shower, but then all he wanted to do was fall asleep on Tony's couch, letting the dramatic movie music and smell of popcorn and soothing babble of Tony's chatter send him off to sleep.

Not to mention, most of his stuff was at Tony's place.

Part of it was that he'd had so little "stuff" to begin with. Also, it was just so much more convenient. They watched movies late into the night more often than not, and over the past month and a half since that first movie night, he'd just sort of…inched in. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even realized it had happened, not until just last week when he'd woken up in his quarters and felt extremely disoriented for a long moment, before figuring out that he wasn't used to waking up without Tony slumped against his shoulder. Then he'd gone to get ready, only to discover he didn't have a backup toothbrush, and his was at Tony's.

Steve was going to have to buy another toothbrush, among other things, but if it meant he could stretch out this strange limbo of half-living with Tony a little longer, he didn't mind in the least. Tony's place felt a lot closer to a home than his quarters at SHIELD ever had.

_Hey, I'm back in town. You still awake?_

_Do I ever sleep?_

_I don't think you've ever made it to the end of a movie._

_I definitely have._

_You definitely have not._

_Lies, Robinson._

_You know me, nothing but a dirty liar._

_I just inhaled coffee through my nose._

_That doesn't sound sanitary._

_It's not. It's also painful, but that's how hard I laughed._

_I think I'm insulted. Are you insinuating I can't lie?_

_Could, sure; puppy dog eyes like that, you could sell water to a fish. Would, no. You'd feel too guilty._

_I do not have 'puppy dog eyes'._

_Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You use them whenever Downey acts up. You make your eyes all wide and your voice all innocent and ask him if he finds you so boring that he needs to act out. Shuts him up every time._

_That boy is really something else._

_You're telling me. He tried to stage a revolution today because he was convinced I'd chased you away by hurting your feelings. He went off to find you and apologize on my behalf. It'd be sort of funny if it wasn't so frustrating._

_He has a good heart._

_Yeah, sure. Hidden under his douche exterior._

_You're a little prickly yourself, at first._

_Do not compare me to a sixteen year old delinquent, Steve. That's too weird on too many levels._

_I'm just saying, you're both a little rough around the edges. But you have so much good in you, who says he doesn't?_

_Feeling sentimental, are we?_

_Downplay it all you want, Stark, you're a softie and you know it._

_Have I mentioned that it's extremely terrifying how well you know me after, what, a month?_

_Month and a half. Two if we're stretching, and I'm inclined to, since the feeling's mutual._

"Captain, may I have a word?"

Steve jumped when Col. Rhodes spoke, banging his knee under the table.

"Ow." He winced. "Uh, yes, of course, Colonel. What can I help you with?"

The meeting had come to an end—the only people remaining were Clint, Natasha, and Colonel Rhodes, who was still giving Steve that weird, disapproving look from before.

"Ignore Cap's phone obsession." Clint rolled his eyes at Steve, speaking to Col. Rhodes. "He and Tony don't really stop talking so much as they pause their one eternal conversation to give other people the occasional time of day."

"Believe me, I'm aware." Col. Rhodes snorted, and Steve turned to look at him in surprise.

"You are?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Captain _Rogers_—" Was it just him, or did Col. Rhodes sound particularly displeased with his last name? "—but Tony isn't great at keeping his mouth shut when he's excited. You happen to be very exciting to him. I hope you take care to remember that, because I'll have no trouble reminding you."

"Are you…threatening me?" Steve blinked, taken completely aback.

"Colonel Rhodes, I hope you're not considering breaking your confidentiality agreement." Natasha watched Rhodey carefully.

"I won't—more accurately, I can't. Let me make myself clear; I'm here to assist you with Iron Man and other threats, and that I will, but don't mistake my cooperation for approval of what you three are planning on doing to my best friend."

"Slow down a minute there." Steve felt himself growing irritated. "I didn't ask for your approval, and I certainly don't need it. You'll excuse me if I don't take your feelings on my _personal _relationship into account."

"You ought to, considering I'm who'll be picking up the pieces of it." Col. Rhodes didn't seem intimidated by him in the least. He turned to stare the three of them down equally; Clint looked surprised, though Natasha seemed to have expected it. "You're important to him, all three of you. But from what I understand, when your assignment's up, your identities are going to disappear, and none of you are ever going to speak to him again. Isn't that right?"

"I don't—" Steve started, then stopped. There wasn't much he could say; he didn't even know _himself _what he was going to do when the assignment was up. "I would never have intended to—"

"I'm sure you're aware of how a covert operation works, Colonel." Natasha interrupted Steve's aborted attempt to defend himself. "It was never meant to be permanent."

"That's what I thought." Col. Rhodes nodded once, concisely. "But no one told him that, did they? No, you three just wiggled your way into his life and made yourselves comfortable, letting him think he'd found friends, that he might finally be able to move on. You could've befriended anyone in that school, but you buddied up to him. Was it so he'd build War Machine? Was having Steve _seduce _him part of your orders—"

"Of course not!" Steve protested adamantly, on his feet in an instant, anger rushing to his head. "Whatever else you think of me, Colonel, I wouldn't do that to him, and I resent the implications you're making—"

"You wouldn't do that, but instead you'll lead him on, knowing full well you're going to disappear on him completely?" Col. Rhodes demanded, his voice making it clear as day just what he thought of that as an alternative. "Do you have any idea what losing you, what losing all three of you, is going to do to him? He's going to blame himself. I guarantee you he's going to find some way to make it his fault, because that's what he _does, _and you're going to destroy every _inch_ of progress that man has worked his_ damned_ hardest to make!"

"Progress?" Steve frowned, something about the way Col. Rhodes said it striking him as odd. "Progress from what?"

"Don't—" Clint started to interrupt, but it was too late.

"From the kidnapping, what the hell do you think?" Col. Rhodes barked.

Instantly, Steve was nothing but a helpless, frail kid from Brooklyn, having his first asthma attack all over again.

"The what?" he asked breathlessly.

"Nice going, Rhodes," Clint snapped, "He didn't know about that part."

All Steve could think of was how just last week Tony had woken up with wild eyes, pulse racing, clutching at Steve like he was the only thing keeping him alive.

"_Tony?" Steve roused almost immediately._

_Tony was gripping Steve's shirt with white knuckles, sweat a thin sheen across his forehead, and he was making terrified, pained noises. Steve pulled him into his arms without a thought, the desire to comfort Tony any way he could forming before he was even fully awake._

"_Hey, it's okay." Steve ran his hands over Tony's back in broad strokes. "You're okay, I got you."_

_Tony startled awake after another moment, pulling back to stare at him in bewilderment, as if he couldn't understand why Steve was still there._

"_Steve?"_

"_Yeah." Steve smiled tentatively. He wanted to reach out, hold Tony's shaking hands, but wasn't sure how Tony would take it. "You okay?"_

"_Yeah, I just—" Tony cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Fuck. Hasn't happened since you've been here. I'm sorry, I thought—with you, it never—I didn't think it would happen. Fuck, I'm sorry—"_

"_Don't be sorry, it happens." Steve shrugged, thinking of his own nightmares. "It's not your fault, and I don't mind. Do you want to talk about—?"_

"_Absolutely not." Tony shook his head decisively._

"_If you ever want to—"_

"_Yeah." Tony smiled. It was a thin, fragile one, but it was real. "I know."_

_Steve paused a moment, still watching Tony carefully, before nodding and returning the careful smile._

"_JARVIS, could you resume the movie where we left off?"_

"_Certainly, Steve."_

_Tony didn't lean on him again for most of the movie, and it took Steve longer than it should've to figure out it was because he thought Steve thought he was being clingy. To hell with subtlety; he threw an arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him in without a word, kindly ignoring the way Tony's entire body melted against him with almost palpable relief._

God, he should've known.

"What kidnapping?" Steve's breath came back in a rush. "Who kidnapped him? When?"

"What do you mean, he didn't know?" Col. Rhodes ignored him to glance between Clint and Natasha. Steve didn't give them time to answer.

"I asked you a question soldier, _who kidnapped him?"_ Steve demanded. Every cell in his body ached to step forward, take Col. Rhodes by the shirt, and shake him until he answered. This must have been obvious, because Col. Rhodes took a small step back.

"Ten Rings, they're a terrorist group. You weren't debriefed on that when you started working with him?"

"He didn't want to know." Clint glared.

"Tony asked Steve not to research him, so against all advisement to the contrary, Steve respected his wishes." Natasha leveled Col. Rhodes with a particularly judgmental look, a look that all but dared him to continue second-guessing Steve's motives.

"God damn it." Col. Rhodes scrubbed a hand over his face in a motion eerily similar to Tony. "No wonder he likes you so damn much. You didn't kno—"

"I have to go." Steve left abruptly, ducking out in the hall. Clint and Natasha could deal with Col. Rhodes.

He had to breathe.

Everything felt slow and constricted, like the times he'd been drugged but worse, headier. He felt himself stumble before he took off into a run, down the hall and around the corner, through the lab level and up the stairs, to the roof, somewhere he could breathe without wanting to throw up—

"Hey!"

He slammed into someone. They were on their phone, but the collision knocked it out of their hands. It fell down the center of the stairwell, all the way from whatever floor they were on—fourth, sixth, tenth, Steve had no idea, he still couldn't _breathe—_to the ground level. It didn't shatter, surprisingly, but the person gave a loud groan anyway.

"You had to knock it down all nine flights of stairs, huh?"

Steve's head shot up at the familiar voice, and he drank in the man's face like he thought he'd never see get the chance to see it again.

_Tony._


	6. Chapter 6

Steve wanted nothing more in the world than to be able to collapse into Tony then and there. He just might have, cover be damned, if Tony hadn't opened his mouth fast enough.

"Well hey, look who it is! I suppose I'll take a meeting with Captain America over a phone. I've been looking for you, Nick said you might be around if I waited long enough." Tony extended a hand. "Tony Stark. I'm working on the War Machine project."

"Uh," Steve paused, his mouth suddenly impossibly dry.

He shook Tony's hand a bit clinically, though he ached to use it as leverage and pull Tony into his arms. He needed to _feel _that Tony was alive, was okay, wasn't being held hostage somewhere by terrorists, tortured or beaten or—he shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts. He'd planned for this. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to use his Captain voice, deep and commanding, and call Tony 'Mr. Stark'. Tony would hate it and correct him immediately, but Captain America had no way of knowing that.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Call me Tony." Tony waved him off, as expected. "Mr. Stark was my father. But then, you knew dear old Dad, didn't you?"

"Not well."

Steve had thought he had. They hadn't been particularly close, but he'd thought he'd known the man well enough, at least until he'd met Tony. Tony wasn't particularly open about his father to put it mildly, but Steve had heard glimpses of stories, bits and pieces of the kind of father Howard had been. Steve didn't like what he'd heard in the least.

"Oh?" Tony looked surprised. "And here he made you out to be war buddies."

"He provided some support from time to time." Steve shrugged, careful not to give too much away. "Reliable scientist, unreliable man."

Tony was delighted by this, which made Steve smile. That had been his intention, after all. Tony didn't show how pleased he was to hear it outwardly, of course, he had a good poker face for these sorts of things, but it was obvious to someone who knew him like Steve did. The quirk of his lips, the hint of wrinkling at his eyes, all signs he was letting himself dial back the posturing a bit.

"Good to know," was all Tony said on the matter before he patted Steve on the arm. "I'm on my way to the mess hall for a quick fuel break, care to join me? I'd love to know what's considered edible. Every time I've been, the only discernible difference I can find in the mush is color."

"I'd—yes." Steve hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. "Definitely."

"Mind if we retrieve my phone first?" Tony fidgeted, glancing over the railing. "I was talking to someone."

"Of course, I'm sorry." They fell into step, and it took Steve stupidly long to figure out Tony meant him. He blamed it on the fact that his head was still reeling from the painful, unavoidable truth in the Colonel's words. Though it was a bad idea, Steve couldn't seem to stop himself from asking. "Who?"

"Oh, just." Tony flashed him a smile, all teeth and nothing real. "A friend."

"Just a friend?" God, what was wrong with him? What on earth had possessed him to—

"That obvious, am I?" Tony smiled was a bit more real this time. "Let's say for now, and leave it at that, yeah?"

"If you'd like. But I could probably help."

"Nosy one, aren't you?" Tony raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't seem overly offended.

"I've been called so before. Specifically, Captain Inquisitive and, somewhat more of a mouthful, Captain Noseyspandex. By a supervillain, if that makes you feel better."

Tony gave a sharp bark of laughter, and the honest, genuine pitch of it made Steve smile.

"Iron Man, I'm guessing?" Tony grinned.

"Always is." Steve sighed.

"I think he's kinda funny, actually." Tony hummed. "What I've heard of him, that is."

"Do you?" Steve raised a dry eyebrow.

"What? It's not like he's killed people." Tony rolled his eyes dismissively. "He's not trying to take over the world, or enslave the human race or anything."

"Your old company is one of the ones he's trying to destroy."

"And I'm sure they've briefed you on why I'm no longer involved with said company. You ask me, I couldn't care less what Iron Man does to StarkIndustries."

The kidnapping flashed through Steve's mind. Did that have something to do with it? Col. Rhodes had said the Ten Rings had kidnapped Tony. Terrorists, weren't they? Steve knew of them only vaguely. They were based in Iran, he thought—no, Afghanistan. Tony had made weapons, he'd been kidnapped, he'd stopped; these pieces fit together somehow, but now didn't seem like the time to ask. Especially when it wasn't Steve but Captain America Tony would be giving an answer to.

"You've been kidnapped by him rather often." Tony gave him a lingering look as they passed stairwell 3. "What's your impression?"

"Of Iron Man?" Steve blew out a breath. "Well, you're right about one thing, he doesn't want to kill people, clearly. I suppose I wouldn't necessarily even call him evil, exactly. Just…misguided."

"Misguided." Tony blinked.

"Very misguided." Steve amended.

"The guy blows things up for a living and kidnaps you in his spare time, and you think he's misguided." Tony shook his head with a chuckle. "You're something else, Cap."

"I've been told." _By you. A lot._

Silence fell between them for a moment, and, because Steve was an idiot who couldn't leave well enough alone, he was the one to awkwardly break it.

"I could help you. With your, er, friend. If you'd like."

"Who, Iron Man?" Tony teased, pretending not to understand. "We're strictly platonic these days, him and I. We had our fling back in the day, but the supervillainy was kind of a deal-breaker."

"You know what I meant." Steve smacked him, the familiarity coming to him all too easily. He'd have to watch himself better, but Tony didn't seem to notice anything odd. Well, odder than he was already being, of course.

"Is Captain America trying to give me love advice right now?"

"I don't know, are you listening?"

"You're terrifyingly sassy for a ninety-year-old."

Steve let out a huff of air that was more fond than aggravated, and allowed himself a brief moment to really look at Tony for the first time since they'd bumped into each other. Tony was smirking at him a little, eyes bright with humor, but he had the beginnings of circles underneath. His hair was mussed, like it got sometimes when he ran his hands through it too much, and there was a smudge of black across his cheekbone. Grease? Motor oil? Steve had no way of knowing.

He didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep these past few days, but it was an eager kind of sleeplessness. Tony had probably been ecstatic to be back to work, even if it inadvertently involved weapons. Tony loved engineering, loved _building _things with such endless enthusiasm he'd probably just forgotten the concept of time altogether.

God, he'd missed this man.

"You're…" Steve searched for a phrase that wasn't _perfect, painfully gorgeous, _or _everything I've ever wanted but never knew to search for. _He settled on something he'd heard his mama call Bucky once, throwing in a bit of Brooklyn to really sell it. "Well, you seem like a real put-together fella."

"Flatterer." Tony rolled his eyes, but his smile was much more real now. He attempted a mimic of Steve's brogue, though it came out a bit more like a Southern drawl. "You're pretty swell yourself, handsome. Them dames must just eat you up with a spoon, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that." Steve shifted, careful not to dwell on how Tony's twangy accent, however bad, had sent an irresistible little shiver through him.

"More's the pity for them, I suppose." Tony shrugged easily enough, and any air of flirtation disappeared as they reached the ground floor and Tony beelined for his phone.

"God Almighty, does that thing still work?" Steve blinked in surprise. The casing didn't even look dented.

"A Stark original." Tony waved it with a grin. "Only two in the world. These things will survive a nuclear blast."

"Two?"

"The friend I mentioned has the other. I swapped it out when he wasn't looking and told him it was an upgrade."

"You what?" Steve demanded indignantly. Tony seemed taken aback, which was pretty fair considering for all intents and purposes he had no idea why Captain America would care.

"Uh, well." Tony shrugged. "Technically speaking, it is. I just didn't upgrade it directly from his old phone. That thing was insultingly useless, but he's way too proud to just let me give him a new one, so. I swapped it."

"You're unbelievable."

"That's what they say." Tony grinned, but it was more show and less Tony than he was used to. "I'll just be a sec, then we can go."

He bent to pick up and open his phone, likely to text Steve again. Shit—his phone's volume was on. If Tony texted him right now, Shoot to Thrill would go off and there was no possible way a genius like Tony wouldn't put two and two together.

"Can I see that?"

Without any thought or plan, Steve quickly grabbed Tony's phone. He fumbled with it, pressing whatever button he could.

"Hey, what're you—hey!" Tony snatched it back, but not before Steve managed to delete the conversation. That wouldn't stop Tony by any means, but it did derail him long enough for Steve to switch his own phone to silent. "What the hell? I was saving those!"

"You were…what?" Steve paused.

"Some were work-related." Tony lied smoothly. If Steve didn't know for a fact it wasn't true, he almost would've bought it. "We work together, and there was important, work-related information in there that I needed to save."

"They didn't look work-related."

"Well, they were, okay, just—you know what, I don't have to explain myself, who the hell goes around stealing people's phones, anyway? You're Captain America for Christ's sake, what're you doing snooping through my things?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry. That wasn't right of me."

"…" Tony regarded him suspiciously for a long minute. "Fuck it, this is probably karma. I'm just gonna go find the mess hall on my own."

"No, I…" Steve didn't know what Tony was going on about, karma or whatever, but he searched for a good reason, _any _good reason to make Tony stop walking away. He didn't want to lie, but it was the only good excuse he could think of. "I haven't seen a phone like that before. I was curious but I'm not very good with technology and I got carried away. I really am sorry. If it helps, I haven't slept in three days because I've been chasing down a previously-thought-to-be-mythological Norse god, I'm not making the best decisions."

Tony stared at him openly.

"Run that last bit by me again?"

"I could tell you more over dinner?" Steve said before his brain could catch up. Oh god, he was in costume, Tony probably thought Captain America had just asked him out. What was _wrong _with him today? "In the mess, I mean. Not like a—just, in the mess. I'll explain."

Tony continued to stare. Steve saw his eyes drop to his phone, then back up, clearly making a decision. Steve couldn't help feeling a bit hurt, even though he'd been pushing Tony to come with him; Tony had clearly made the conscious decision to spend time with Captain America over Steve.

"Tell you what, I'll meet you there." Tony opened his phone again. "Give me a minute, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Good, that would give him time to see what Tony's message was. Steve left in the direction of the mess hall, pulling out his phone the moment he was out of Tony's sight. Nothing was waiting for him, and it took a minute for the latest message to pop up.

_Hey, I'm heading home. Want to come over?_

Steve's initial reaction was confusion. Tony wasn't heading home, why would he tell Steve to come over?

Then he got it; Tony was ditching him.

Well, Captain America him. He couldn't deny part of him was over the moon—he was so sick of being a figurehead first and a person second, and here Tony had gone and disregarded the figurehead entirely—but he couldn't help worrying. Tony had disliked Captain America so much he'd left without so much as pretending to fake a reason. Heck, he didn't even know what had made Tony want to ditch him in the first place. Well, Captain-America-him.

This was all so complicated.

Tony was at the very heart of the complication, and yet all Steve wanted to do was see him again. He blamed the lack of sleep. Honestly, he could focus on figuring out how not to get crushed under the weight of his secret double life later. Right now, all he wanted was to curl up with Tony and listen to him rant about movie inaccuracies until he talked them both to sleep.

_I'll be there in ten._

_Works for me, I need to wrap up something in the lab real quick anyway. If you get there first, just hold up your phone to the lock and JARVIS'll scan you in. Make some popcorn while you're at it, I'm starving._

Steve stopped where he was, completely thrown. Tony had given him a metaphorical key to his apartment? Without even _telling _him? They'd known each other two months at most, and sure, Clint was right, they visited each other's classes and talked near constantly and Steve practically lived there anyway, that wasn't the _point. _The point was that Steve was lying to Tony constantly, every time he opened his mouth, and here Tony was, _trusting _him.

God, Col. Rhodes was right, he was horrible person.

_Tony, you barely know me, why did you give me a key?_

_I think 'barely' is a bit of a stretch, you pretty much live on my couch. And it's not a key, it's a passcode. Much more practical._

_Key, passcode, whatever you want to call it. For all you know, I could be a serial killer!_

_Steve, I don't know if you realize, but you wake up an hour before me, and your response to having me unconscious and vulnerable is to bring me coffee and make us breakfast. If you're a serial killer, I highly recommend a career change._

_Okay, so serial killer was a bad example. I'm not saying we're strangers, I'm saying a key to your apartment is a lot of trust you shouldn't throw around so easily._

_I'm not throwing anything around easily, I have trust issues the likes of which you can't even comprehend. But I know you well enough to know you're not going to rob me or let drug dealers in, mostly because you believe that Stealing Is Morally Wrong and you'd probably somehow turn the drug dealers into upstanding citizens with one withering glare and the suggestion that they rethink their life choices._

Tony had buried the truth in blithe jokes like always, but Steve saw through it; _I have trust issues the likes of which you can't comprehend. _There was an implied _but I trust you anyway _there, and it made Steve's chest ache with the desire to protect Tony from himself, and his stomach near sick with guilt. He was going to hurt Tony no matter how he went about it now. He still didn't know what he was going to do in the end, but he knew that after all that had happened between them, he couldn't just walk away now.

He needed Tony. What Col. Rhodes had said, about how they'd helped Tony move on, it was true in reverse. Tony had helped him move on from his grief without even knowing it, had given Steve a _life _again, and he could no more forget Tony than he could forget a body part.

_You're ridiculous._

It was a lame response that didn't even begin to cover the scope of how Steve felt at the moment, but it was all he could think to type. Tony's reply was immediate.

_And you're a good person. So will you stop making a big deal out of nothing and just use the damn passcode so I can have warm popcorn waiting for me?_

_I should let a drug dealer in just to spite you._

_But you won't._

_Not this time. But only because I'm hungry and I want your popcorn._

_Works for me._

He was almost assuredly going to hell.

* * *

"No one says we're going to just _drop _him—"

"What, you're going to pretend to be Clark Barden, gym teacher for the rest of your life—"

"Of course not, but people move, it _happens, _we can call and text and—"

"He has a private fucking plane, you think he's not going to try and _see _you every once in a while—"

"_Stop."_

The one word, hissed instead of yelled but all the more demanding for it, drew both boys' attention. Natasha had stayed silent throughout their bickering, but she'd had more than enough.

"Colonel Rhodes, none of this was meant to happen and holding it over our heads is no way to begin working as a team. Steve's attachment in particular is regrettable, but they're both grown men and they will fix it or they will cope but either way they will do so themselves. In the meantime, we don't have to agree on everything but we are teammates, and I expect you to be able to act professionally."

It wasn't a question by any means, but Col. Rhodes nodded anyway. Good boy.

"Barton, with me."

She turned on her heel and left, knowing Clint would follow. There was no reason to have a disagreement with him in front of Col. Rhodes, and oh, there was going to be a disagreement; she knew him too well to expect anything else. They barely made it into the hall before he spoke up.

"Tasha, _no."_

"You know as well as I do we don't need to be there anymore."

"We were barely needed in the first place."

"It was recon for Steve."

"It was Nick's way of making us take a vacation since we won't use our days." Clint snorted. "And you know it."

"Phil—"

"Wasn't using his vacation days either, and god knows he needs it more than either of us. Look, of course I'm gonna cover Steve's ass if shit goes down, but that's not why we were sent, and it's not why I want to stay it out."

"What we want is irrelevant, Clint." She shook her head. "The longer we're there, the more we compromise ourselves."

"We're already compromised, what does it matter? If Rhodes is right, and we both know he unfortunately is, it's gonna suck for everyone either way. Faking is what we do. Why can't we fake having a life a few more months?"

"Ever the procrastinator." Natasha couldn't help the fondness that crept into her sigh.

It was why she'd talked to Clint in the first place. He could always talk her into even the most foolish of ideas, and she could admit, if only to herself, she'd wanted to be talked into this one.

Clint knew that, of course. He always did.

* * *

"JARVIS, did Steve use the passcode?" Tony asked of his phone as he climbed the stairs up to his apartment.

"Yes, sir. He is currently watching Star Wars, Episode IV."

"Good." Tony nodded to himself, taking the stairs two at a time.

He should've known better than to flirt with Cap. Karma always loved to bite him in the ass. Who cared about some relic of a soldier Howard had known once upon forever ago, when he had Steve right here? Steve was nothing short of incredible. Steve was everything Tony hadn't even _dreamed _of, and he wasn't throwing it away for some flag-faced do-gooder.

Part of him was glad Captain Clumsy had deleted Steve's messages. They were retrievable, after all—he was Tony Stark, come on—but the momentary panic that he'd lost them was enough to remind him who he really wanted.

And it sure as hell wasn't the one prancing around in America-themed tights.

"Please tell me you made popcorn?" Tony greeted, waving a hand at Steve as he entered. "I'm dying of starvation over here."

"Big project?" Steve asked, raising the bowl of popcorn to Tony in answer and offering.

"Like you wouldn't believe. They made me sign confidentiality and everything." Tony mimed zipping his lips as he collapsed next to Steve on the couch, stealing the popcorn greedily. "Sorry. I'll tell you when it's public. I can tell you one thing though—don't meet your heroes. They turn out to be human."

Steve gave him a weird look, and Tony paused.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just…nothing."

"Don't you _nothing _me." Tony bumped shoulders with Steve. "What's up? Has the serial killer decided to murder me at last?"

"Keep making fun of me, I just might." Steve snorted. "It's just…well, what's wrong with being human?"

"Nothing wrong with it." Tony shrugged, trying to figure out how to phrase himself without giving too much away. "I'm exaggerating, sort of. He wasn't that bad. I just had an important realization, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I kind of stood him up, actually, but I can make up an excuse later."

"What kind of important realization?" Steve was looking at him with very intent curiosity, and Tony found himself wanting to fidget.

_Oh, you know, just that it turns out the supposed peak of human perfection is nothing compared to you._

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Robinson." Tony waved him off, grabbing another handful of popcorn. "What you _should _worry about is bringing a change of clothes tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"The kids have a surprise for you." Tony nodded innocently. Oh, tomorrow was going to be fun.

"The kids, huh?" Steve shot him a look, obviously not buying it.

"Yep." Tony just grinned, not missing a beat. He paused briefly, then, "They missed you, y'know."

"They did, did they?" Steve seemed amused, probably seeing right through Tony's flimsy excuse.

"A lot more than they expected." Tony was careful to keep his eyes on the movie instead of Steve. "I mean, it was only three days, I told them they were being ridiculous, but. You know kids."

"Kids." Tony could feel Steve watching him. He was clearly aware that they weren't talking about the kids anymore. "Well, you can tell them I missed them a hell of a lot myself."

"I'll be sure to do that."

They watched the movie silently for a little while, and Tony was trying to figure out why the hell he couldn't just tell Steve he'd fucking missed him like a normal, functioning human being, when Steve leaned closer, putting a hand on Tony's wrist.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" Had his voice always sounded that squeaky?

"Could I ask you something?"

"Anything." Tony answered immediately before backtracking, trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks. "Uh, you know me, open book, ask away."

"Your…nightmare. Last week?" Steve was being gentle, reminding him, and Tony wanted to curl up and die.

That had been utterly mortifying. He'd woken up clinging to Steve like a leech; he still wasn't sure why Steve didn't stopped coming over after that, but he was terrifyingly grateful he hadn't.

"I remember."

His voice sounded dry. He should probably get some water. Get up and move in any direction at all, really. Away sounded good. Something kept him in place, though; it was probably Steve's hand, cautious but steady on his wrist. Tony was pretty sure Steve didn't realize his thumb was rubbing circles there, and Tony wasn't inclined to let him know. He might stop, after all.

"Could you tell me about it?"

"That's, um, a really very long story, complicated, you know, I'm sure you'd find it rather dull, actually, maybe it's best if—"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Steve was looking down at his hand, the one he still hadn't removed from Tony's. He looked up, meeting Tony's eyes with a sincerity Tony wasn't sure he knew what to do with. "But I'd like to know."

Well, shit.

"JARVIS, shut the movie off." He waved a hand impatiently at the tv, looking at Steve dubiously. "I wasn't kidding when I said it's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it." Steve's voice was soft.

Under different circumstances Tony might've been irritated with the fragile treatment, but it felt different, with Steve. He wasn't treating him like he was breakable, exactly, just…like he cared. Like he wanted to hear the answer and was willing to sit in silence until he got it.

"StarkIndustries was my father's baby. He loved that company more than anything; more than me." Tony waved Steve's open mouth off insistently. "No interrupting. I'm not exaggerating, and that's not the point of the story. He died when I was seventeen, less than a week after I graduated college. There was a car accident, same one that killed my mother, and Jarvis."

He didn't mean to fall silent. He didn't even realize he'd stopped speaking until Steve was hugging him tight enough to bruise.

"If you're going to hug me every time something bad happens in this story, we're not going to get anywhere."

"Fine by me." Steve's voice sounded odd, constricted.

Tony let himself drop his forehead against Steve's shoulder. It was nice. It was sappy and shouldn't matter half as much as it did, but it felt good to know Steve was there to hold him up even when he didn't know he needed it. When Steve eventually released him, Tony didn't meet his eyes. He wasn't exactly proud of this part, and he had a feeling Steve wouldn't like it much either.

"StarkIndustries was, uh. Was Howard's legacy. I never really made him proud, not the way the company did, and…even if he was dead, that was still…that was all I wanted. So I kept going. I made it bigger and better. I went international. I made weapons powerful enough to take down mountains. They called me the Merchant of Death, by the end of it, and I—look, if we're going to talk about this, I should probably get everything out there, over and done with before you read it in a tabloid somewhere—I was a, well, a pretty shitty person. I was a war profiteer, really, and I didn't care. I drank, partied, and fucked away any second thoughts."

He still didn't look up. He really didn't want to see Steve's reaction.

"I'd wake up, spend a few hours in the shop, hit a board meeting or two, get wasted, find a party, fuck someone, rinse and repeat. There were some award galas and business lunches and some charity events in there, but, um."

Steve was still sitting there. He was very still, but he wasn't running for the door. That was something. Tony pushed forward.

"Anyway. Someone decided I was too much of a loose cannon. I was in, uh, Afghanistan demonstrating the Jericho—last mass production weapon I ever designed, able to take out a mountain range—when my convoy was attacked. I got a bunch of soldiers killed, and they—the terrorists, well, Ten Rings grunts really, but it's sort of the same thing—they, um, well. Kidnapped me. I spent a while in captivity while they tried to, to convince me I should build them a Jericho. I told them no, obviously, but they didn't really take that well, mostly just made them up the ante, really, which is, you know—" Tony had to actively fight the urge to tap at the arc reactor. It was hidden under two shirts and a case cover to block the light, but he always felt its presence, now more than ever. "Nightmare material, I'm sure you can imagine."

Steve was hugging him again. Tony felt his hands digging into the back of Steve's shirt, and he realized somewhat absently that he was clinging. He let himself forget about it though, because Steve was clinging too, and that felt too good to let go of just yet. Steve's hand clasped the back of his neck, warm and steady and immeasurably calming.

"I'm so sorry, Tony." His words were soft, barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah, well. Important thing is, I didn't give in, so."

"No." Steve's answer was immediate and forceful, and he used the hand on Tony's neck to pull Tony back, make him look him in the eye. There was no disapproval there, no judgment or criticism for his litany of past mistakes, just a fierce determination to make Tony understand. "The important thing is that you're alive."

Arousal lit in him like a flash fire, fast and scorching. There was the familiar swooping sensation low in his stomach, but Tony had no experience with the immensity of it. He'd wanted plenty of people before, arousal was old hand at this point, but he'd never put much stock in if they wanted him back. If they consented, great, find a bed, if they didn't, fine, find another pretty face.

Tony had never wanted anyone so desperately in his life.

The ringing startled them both, and Steve removed his hand from Tony's neck sharply, as if he'd been burned.

"Sorry, that's—I have to…" Steve pulled out his phone, grimacing at it. "I have to. I'll be right back."

Steve stood and went into the hall, and Tony tried his best not to think about how the sudden departure felt like Steve's excuse to flee, or how Tony's fingertips still tingled with desire.

He wasn't gone long, but when Steve returned it was to make a beeline for his shoes.

"I'm so sorry, Tony, I know this is horrible timing, but I have a, uh, family emergency, I've got to go—"

"Where to?" Tony stood, arousal evaporating at the look on Steve's face. He was upset and conflicted, and Tony wanted to help. He stood, grabbing for and tugging on his shoes as well.

"What?" Steve was looking at him with a furrowed brow now, confusion etched across his features.

"I'll drive, I can afford the speeding tickets."

"Speeding…what do you mean?"

"You said emergency, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but I can drive, I have my bike—"

"Steve, I don't know if you realize, but I don't just go around…" Tony made a frustrated, aborted gesture. "_Talking, _about things. I'm relatively sure that's the first time I've even _said_ a couple of those words since it happened. The absolute least I can do for you is get you where you need to go, and I guarantee I can get you there faster than you could on your own."

Steve just watched him, unmoving. Tony fidgeted under his earnest gaze, and grabbed his keys instead.

"So, where are we going? Hospital, airport, what?"

"Tony, I…" Steve stepped forward, then back, indecisive. He seemed to give up on whatever it was he'd been trying to say, and ducked his head. "You can't come, Tony, I'm sorry."

"Oh. That's, um." Tony stepped back, putting his hands up in the universal sign of peace. "I'm being pushy, I didn't mean…yeah. Right, go do your, uh, family thing. Good luck with that."

"You're not pushy," Steve insisted, but he was glancing at the door, "Really, I…under any other circumstance I'd appreciate it, it's just, it's very complicated, everything is, and I _really _need to go, I'm sorry."

Then he was gone.

Tony stood in his living room, one shoe on, one shoe off, keys dangling in his hand, for a very long time. Eventually he gave the kind of sigh that make him sound a good decade older than he was, and threw the keys on the counter. He shook his other shoe off and picked up his phone, collapsing back on the couch.

"Look, Tony, I'm not in a great place to talk right now, I'm gonna have to call you ba—"

"I told him, Rhodey."

"What, that you love him?"

"Fuck no, are you insane?" Tony snapped. "You don't just fucking lay that on someone, not to mention I don't _love _him, I _like _him—"

"I do not have time for your bullshit right now man—"

"Okay, I maybe kind of might love him, but that's the not what I told him. I told him about the…thing."

"You—" There was static, and what sounded like gunfire. "What do you mean you _told _him, you mean you _talked _about it?"

"Was that gunfire?"

"Yeah, I got my first call to action." Rhodey grunted. "It's fine, I'm handling it, you don't get to say something like that and change the subject on me. Tony, you haven't said a word to anyone about this since it happened, are you telling me you had a full-fledged _conversation_ with this guy about—oh _fuck_—"

The line cut out.

"JARVIS, where's the call?" Tony shot up, heading immediately into his room.

"Our uplink to SHIELD indicates that they are indeed on alert," JARVIS reported, "But at the time of the call, I did not think you would find it higher priority than your current preoccupation."

He supposed he probably wouldn't have; he'd had no way of knowing if Rhodey was in trouble then, and he would've just thought it was like any other call and been pissed at JARVIS for interrupting his moment with Steve.

"Alert where?" Tony headed straight for the back of his closet, unlocking and flipping open the disguised panel in the wall with practiced ease to pull out the suitcase suit.

"SHIELD headquarters itself, sir." JARVIS hesitated. "Sir, the precautions you've implemented against SHIELD infiltration are still untested, and heading directly for their base is perhaps not—"

"Rhodey's in trouble, J." Tony's tone brokered no argument. "We're going."

Tony hauled the suitcase out of the apartment and down the fire escape. Once he'd checked to be sure the alley was free of witnesses, he tossed it on the ground, grabbed the levers, and yanked. The suit assembled around him like a second skin and as the faceplate closed the HUD display lit up, welcoming him home.


	7. Chapter 7

Building Rhodey a suit was the best idea Tony'd ever had.

It gave him an ear on the inside, kept him up to date on the Cap Squad's latest supposed Iron Man busting toys, and had granted him the access he'd needed to crack open SHIELD's files and security system. There were a couple corners of SHIELD he still needed to wiggle his way into—their green energy files were one, interestingly enough—but that was a project for another night.

He still didn't know the Cap Squad's identities either, but those were a verbal-only secret with no files to track. Besides, Tony wasn't particularly interested in uncovering their identities; he'd had this debate with himself the first time he'd kidnapped Cap. Sure, he was _labeled _a supervillain, and he took advantage of that label, but that didn't mean he actually was. Tony knew it would be wrong to unmask Cap, or any of them, even if they spent all their time trying to do the same to him. Not to mention, there was always the chance that someday Cap might catch him, and by not unmasking Cap now, there was the small chance he might return the favor someday.

Tony bypassed SHIELD's aerial security easily, remotely disengaging the bogeys they'd sent after him. It was pretty easy to figure out where the trouble was: the testing facility he'd been at with Rhodey earlier was on fire.

"JARVIS, what do we got?"

"Scanning." There was a moment's pause. "The extraterrestrial attacker labeled 'The Destroyer' SHIELD recovered from New Mexico has been inadvertently activated. It has set off a number of explosions in Block D of the testing facility, and agents are currently working on evacuation while the Alpha Team engages."

"Alpha Team." Tony snorted to himself. "If anyone around here had a sense of humor, they'd have followed my lead and called them the Cap Squad."

"I don't believe Director Fury is one to follow a supervillain's lead."

"Har de har har. For the record, I totally called this. The minute I saw that thing's file, I knew it was going to reactivate. Alien tech always does. Haven't they ever seen a sci-fi flick?" Tony clicked his tongue. "See, this is what happens when people don't let me play with their toys."

"I was under the impression this is more similar to what happens when they do."

"JARVIS, you sarcastic little shit, don't you ever change." Tony grinned, swooping in low.

The smoke inside was thick and billowing; the sprinkler system had been disengaged somehow. He double-checked his gauges, but the suit's filtration system was holding steady. Scanners indicated there were nineteen people still in the building, mostly working on evac, and Tony picked out Rhodey's suit, Cap's bulk, and Widow's lean curves over by the Destroyer. Hawkeye was likely with the evac teams, the smoke too dense for his talent to be useful.

Cap was trying to punch his way through it, no surprises there, while Rhodey blasted indiscriminately and Widow attempted to get it to deactivate again through the use of EMP cables. They'd been designed with the sleek, human-sized Iron Man armor in mind though, and weren't doing much for the Destroyer.

Honestly, these guys were supposed to be a team?

"Widow's got the right idea, wrong implementation. JARVIS, give me a weak spot analysis."

Five targets popped up on the display: the eye slit, a small area just under each shoulder, and the back joint of each kneecap. Each was a pretty small target…but large enough for an arrow, Tony would bet. He just needed to get Hawkeye some leverage up above the smoke so he could get a clear shot. He left the Cap Squad to their ineffective work, picking his way through agents until he found the one he wanted.

"Hawkeye, you're with me." Tony snatched him up by the back of his uniform. Hawkeye gave a disgruntled shout as his feet lifted off the ground, and he squirmed in Iron Man's grasp.

"Hey, what—aw, c'mon, you? Now, seriously?"

"Calm down, this isn't an attack, it's a rescue." Tony shushed him. "Got any of those EMP arrows on you?"

"You aren't supposed to know about those yet." Hawkeye narrowed his eyes.

"Well clearly that cat's out of the bag. Got em or not?"

"Yeah."

"If I carry you above the smoke and paint you a target, can you hit it while we're on the move?

"Don't insult me."

"Then shoot where I shoot." Tony instructed, flying up above the smoke.

He grasped Hawkeye by the back of his shirt with one hand, waited for Hawkeye to draw his bow and level an arrow, then shot off a repulsor at the Destroyer's eye slit; take out the main power first. The arrow followed a split second later, and the Destroyer rocked backwards as the EMP went off. The rest of the Cap Squad turned to stare at them in surprise.

"Man, do you know how much paperwork I'm going to have to do to explain I'm not your fucking groupie now?" Hawkeye complained.

"Focus, hotshot. Take out the killer robot trying to destroy your facility first, complain about my help later."

"You bet your ass I'll complain later." Hawkeye grumbled, but docked another arrow. "Where next?"

In answer, Tony shot off two repulsors, one after the other at the weak points under the Destroyer's shoulders. Hawkeye's arrows were just seconds after, and the Destroyer's arms spasmed as its power there was disengaged. Tony swooped behind the Destroyer, but before he could point out the final two targets it swung back around faster than anticipated. Tony had no time to dodge and would've knocked him right out of the air if Widow hadn't shot forward first. She released her EMP cables again, wrapping them around the Destroyer's arm and yanking it back to keep it from smacking into Tony.

Tony took the provided opportunity, shooting off the marks for Hawkeye, who followed up with the arrows that sent the Destroyer to its knees.

"Tell Widow I owe her one."

"Don't kid, she'll take you up on it."

"As long as she doesn't want my mask or my head, consider it a deal."

He dropped Hawkeye back down on the ground, flying up towards Rhodey instead.

"Hey copycat." Tony announced with a sloppy salute. "Wanna help me haul this thing out before it blows?"

"You're under arrest, hands where I can see them—" Rhodey raised both hands out, warming his repulsors.

"Oh stop, you're just insulting us both." Tony snorted. "The Destroyer's got maybe thirty seconds til it overloads and blows this whole facility to bits, you gonna help me carry it out or not?"

"Why the hell would I belie—" Rhodey paused, probably as his own JARVIS relayed the truth of Tony's calculations. "Fuck, yeah, okay, where do I grab it?"

"Pick an arm." Tony swooped down to grab the right one while Rhodey took the left. "Don't worry about its firepower, it's shorted out for the moment. Through the roof?"

"Yeah."

They managed to get it out, took it far back behind the facility before they had to abandon the area and let it blow. It was close enough that it took out some of the back wall, but there were no injuries so Tony counted it as a win.

Rhodey, bless his law-abiding heart, tackled Tony the second the Destroyer was down for the count.

"Oof!"

"You're coming with me."

"Persistent, aren't you?" Tony grumbled.

He managed to twist in the air so that when they hit the ground, he came out on top. They wrestled briefly before Tony was able to get back into the air, but Rhodey just took off after him. Thankfully, Tony had made sure War Machine wasn't half as fast as Iron Man—Rhodey had wanted so many bulky weapons Tony probably couldn't have made War Machine as fast even if he'd wanted to—and Tony was eventually able to turn a swift corner, duck under an overpass and press up against the wall. Rhodey blew right by him.

It probably helped that JARVIS "couldn't pin down Iron Man's signature".

Good old JARVIS.

Tony started to head home, before changing his mind; he could use a good fly. He looped through the air lazily and without direction, rocketing himself up as high as systems would allow and spiraling out, observing New York in all its nighttime glory. He'd miss this, when it was all over. There was so much good in the suit, so much potential, it'd be a waste to let it just sit in storage somewhere.

He let himself wonder if Captain America could be right.

Could his image really still be redeemed? He'd worked well with the Cap Squad just now, surprise of surprises. Other than the part where Rhodey chased him halfway across town, of course, but that could be rectified easily. Rhodey'd be pissed for a little bit, but of all of them, he'd come around easiest, for sure. Tony was starting to see it; he wouldn't have to run away soon as the law showed up, he could stay, could do even more good than he was already trying to, he could…

He could be a superhero.

Steve would like that.

Tony couldn't fathom why, but Steve seemed eager to believe the best of him. That belief in and of itself made Tony _want _to be better; maybe Steve was naïve, or just too optimistic, but that didn't change how desperately Tony hoped he might be right. If someone like Steve could see good in him, there had to be some, right?

Which begged the question: what would Steve think if he knew the truth?

Would he support Tony's desire for revenge? He'd been awfully sympathetic earlier, and he hadn't even known the worst of it…he wasn't the kind of person to agree with murder though, no matter the circumstances. He'd want to have Stane brought up on charges, make him face justice in a court and a jail cell, not with a repulsor through the face.

The worst part was, Tony could already hear Steve in his head.

_He's not worth it, Tony._

_All killing him will do is bring you down to his level, Tony._

_I don't want to see that happen to you, Tony._

Tony shook his head viciously. He'd gone too far to back out now. He_ deserved_ this. He'd fought his way out of Afghanistan for it. He'd survived a bombing and a kidnapping and _torture _for this, miniaturized an arc reactor and built a suit of armor both literal and metaphorical, faked PTSD and lied to everyone he knew and created a double life all for this, all for the promise he'd made to himself that he would get revenge on the man who'd made it all happen.

Would Steve be able to forgive him this need?

Tony knew he didn't want a one night stand with Steve. He didn't care to examine exactly how he felt for fear of his suspicions being right, but he did know that he wanted Steve in his life for as long as he could possibly hold onto him. That meant honesty, at some point; Steve deserved it, and continuing to lie to him would do nothing but tear them apart.

He couldn't control Steve's reaction, but he could make sure that he told him the right way. He could make sure it came from him, could make Steve promise to hear him out from start to finish before running for the hills. Steve would do that for him, Tony was sure, no matter how much he didn't like what he heard. Even as Tony started to head home, he was already beginning to plot it out. Telling Steve the right way meant that the story would have to be accompanied by the promise that Tony was done, finished; it hurt to think of putting away the suit forever, but he could do it for Steve.

It meant he'd have to speed up his plans, but it wasn't much of a hardship considering he only had four more warehouses on his SI list anyway. He'd planned to spread them out, intersperse them with a HammerIndustries division that was mistreating its employees and handling a couple of the military's operations for them—he always got a kick out that, they put up such an adorably useless fuss—but he could put those aside and start closing in on Stane a little ahead of schedule.

It was high time the bastard starting sweating, anyway.

* * *

Steve felt awful for leaving Tony alone.

He wanted to go back after, but couldn't bring himself to. What could he even say? Sorry that you opened up to me and I repaid you by taking off without even telling you where I was going. Sorry that when you tried to help me I completely blew you off with no reasonable explanation whatsoever. Sorry that I still can't think of a good lie to cover why I left.

It couldn't be helped. Steve knew he'd done the right thing, and if Tony had known he surely would've agreed, the aftermath was just…complicated. SHIELD almost lost an entire testing facility; would have, if it weren't for Iron Man.

Iron Man.

Steve just could not figure him out. Iron Man had swooped in out of nowhere, enlisted Hawkeye—completely against his will, Clint insisted—taken the Destroyer out, disposed of it with War Machine—purely for the good of everyone, Col. Rhodes insisted—then disappeared into the night without a trace.

Nick was, for lack of a better word, furious.

Steve was willing to bet it had more to do with the fact that Iron Man had saved their asses than the security breach. Nick still had them detained in an endless meeting about how next time hepicks you up you shoot him Hawkeye, and next time something is about to knock _fucking Iron Man _out of the sky you let them Widow, seriously do you people not understand what a _supervillain _is, and on and on.

It was endless, really.

Steve was still so exhausted. For once, he wasn't the one getting berated for being "involved" in Iron Man's schemes, so he could let himself drift a bit. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to Tony.

_You can't come._

It was the only thing he could think of to say to get Tony to stay behind. Tony had been so earnest and ready to help, and Steve knew he wouldn't take no for an answer, not unless…not unless there was a bit of a sting to it. He knew that, rationally, but it sure didn't make him feel any better about doing it.

It was almost three in the morning. Tony had to be asleep. Right?

_Tony, I— _Steve started to type. JARVIS didn't stop him to say Tony was asleep. Now that he knew he could actually explain himself, however, he had no idea what he wanted to say.

More accurately, he couldn't think of any lie he could tell Tony to make it better. A painful thought occurred to him: maybe he shouldn't. Maybe if he and Tony had a falling out now, it would be better in the long run. Better for Tony, anyway.

There was no "better" for Steve if he had to lose Tony so soon after having found him.

_Tony, I'm so sorry about earlier. I didn't mean it, I just…panicked._

Steve was being selfish. He knew he was. He knew it was better for both of them if they fell out now, but he couldn't stand the idea of Tony thinking he didn't care, that he hadn't wanted to stay.

_It's fine._

_It's really not. Could I come back?_

_You don't have to._

_I want to. Honestly. There's nowhere else I'd rather be._

He didn't get a response after that, likely because Tony didn't believe him. Steve racked his brain for any sort of excuse. Eventually a strange idea came to him, and a rather morbid one at that, but he couldn't think of anything else; family in the hospital meant Tony might ask to visit with him "next time", and there wasn't much else he'd get a call in the middle of the night about.

_It was the police. There was a murder and they thought it might've been someone I knew so they asked me to identify a body. It wasn't, but I didn't know that at the time._

_Jesus, Steve, that's awful. Why didn't you say something?_

_I panicked. How often do you have to go look at dead bodies?_

_Fair enough, I just, I could've…I don't know, made the drive less gloomy? I just wanted to help._

_I know you did, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I promise, Tony, it had nothing to do with what we were talking about before. _

_If you need space, it's fine._

_What on earth would I need space for?_

_It's…I don't know, it's a lot to take in, isn't in?_

_Well, yes, but it's not YOUR fault._

_It sort of is. I mean, maybe not the terrorist part, but the rest of it._

_You're not that person anymore._

_But I was._

_And now you're not. People do bad things, Tony. It doesn't make them bad people._

_I've done a hell of a lot more bad than good._

_I have faith in you, Tony. You have a good heart, mistakes and all._

_You have too much faith._

_You don't have enough._

The conversation faded back to their usual banter as the tension wore away, and Steve found himself immensely relieved. As the meeting wore on, Steve eventually told Tony to just get some sleep, he'd seen him in class tomorrow. This turned out to be a good idea, since Nick dragged the meeting on until almost five in the morning. Steve was running on nothing but fumes, a hot shower, and a catnap when he showed up to school the next morning.

Steve slipped into Tony's classroom quietly, taking a minute to observe Tony at work before announcing his presence.

"—emember, make any final adjustments now, once we get out there the red pen comes out and your project grades come down!"

Tony was in the middle of the room, walking the aisles between the desks, picking and prodding at student's projects as he gave instructions. Catapults? Interesting.

"My god, Ruffalo, this is a work of art. Seriously. If you don't enter in the science fair, I'm entering you myself."

"I don't think you can do that, Prof. Stark." The boy, Mark Ruffalo, rolled his eyes at Tony.

"No, no, I wouldn't enter your project, that's stealing, I'll enter _you_. As my project. Presenting, a Tony Stark original…wait for it…" Tony drum-rolled on Mark's desk. "The Incredible Fluffalo!"

"And what exactly would I do?"

"Science on demand, of course. The peons at this school are easily impressed, I'm sure you'll think of something." Tony grinned, moving on. "Alright people, remember, if Robinson asks, what are we catapulting?"

A couple perceptive students glanced at him, but Steve held a finger to his lips—_don't tell._

"Ping pong balls," the students recited dutifully.

"Right-o, kiddos." Tony clapped his hands together gleefully. "I can't wait to see the look on his fa—"

"I turn my back for a few days and you become a mad scientist." Steve laughed, announcing his presence. "Nice, Tony."

"Steve!" Tony nearly leapt out of his skin, and the students burst into laughter. He scowled at them. "You little rats, you're supposed to be on my side!"

"And what are we catapulting _really?" _Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing, nothing," Tony sing-songed, "Don't you trust me, darling?"

"Not in the slightest."

"I'm hurt, Steven, hurt _deeply."_

"If he says he'll kiss it better, I swear I'll puke," one of the students muttered. It was one of the ones in the back, no way Tony could've heard, but Steve's face felt like it was on fire.

"I think they're cute." One of the girls shoved the boy who'd spoken in the shoulder. "Don't be a hater."

"No one's hating anything, I just don't wanna see em suck face when we could be pelting em instead."

"You're such a _guy," _the girl complained.

"You're not hurt, you're scheming." Steve tried his best to ignore the still-bickering students. "I don't like it when you scheme, it spells bad things for me. I think I still have bruises from last time."

"Oh, come on, this is going to be fun!"

"Our definition of 'fun' varies."

"Would I lie to you, Steviebear?"

"Yes."

The students laughed again.

"If you keep insulting me, I'm revoking your visitor's pass to my class of awesome."

"No, you won't." Steve rolled his eyes knowingly. "You need a test dummy."

"Very true." Tony grinned, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulders enthusiastically. "Come on, test dummy, your calling awaits! Kids, grab your projects, we're heading to the quad!"

As they made their way outside and set up the projects, Steve couldn't stop overhearing the kids. He was usually pretty good about selective hearing—he had to be, or he'd get a sensory overload every time he stepped outside—but the kids kept saying Tony's name and his name and he just couldn't stop _listening_.

"Dude, they're definitely together."

"Five bucks says they're not."

"Ten bucks says you're blind."

"Fuck off. I'm just saying, if they were,wouldn't they be more obvious?"

"_Could _they be more obvious?"

Steve was distracted from the two betting boys by two girls, giggling amongst themselves.

"It's like watching my parents."

"How many years of detention you think I'd get if I shouted at them to just kiss already?"

"Don't do that, Mr. Robinson might turn so red he'd implode."

"Mr. Stark would probably give me an A."

Steve flushed a bit, but then he overheard another boy, very ardently attempting to convince a couple others of his case.

"It's _Tony Stark, _he'd fuck anything on two legs—"

"God, you're such a pig."

"It's true_. _Have you seen the way he looks at him, you knowhe at least_ wants_ to tap that_—"_

"They're _teachers, _you can't talk about them like that—"

"Seriously, would you at least keep your voice down?"

"Come on, they're all the way up front, they can't hear."

"You're gonna get us detention—"

"Don't be such a little miss goody two shoes. Remember last year? People magazine said he went 12 for 12 with Maxim's cover models—"

"Oh my god, he's gonna _hear_ you—"

"So what? He used to be proud of it, man, he was so cool—"

"He grew up, you should try it sometime."

"Just cause he's not a celebrity anymore doesn't mean he's not still Tony Stark. You're delusional if you think they aren't fucking."

"So, uh." Steve turned to Tony, blocking out the students as best he could, trying to remember he wasn't actually supposed to be able to hear them. "Catapults?"

Thankfully, that was all it took to get Tony to start talking again, and Steve let his happy science babble drown out the still gossiping kids. At least, until Tony mentioned the part where they stood up front and let the students pelt them with paint balls.

"Why on _earth _would I—"

"Come on, they've been psyched about this for days, they could barely wait until you got back—"

"Why _paint—"_

"So we can judge the winner, obviously—"

"Winner of what?"

"Weren't you listening to me?" Tony huffed. "It's a competition, Steve, whoever lands the most shots wins twenty points extra credit. That's why it's paint, so we can tell from the different colors who shot what."

"Tony, I really don't think you've thought this through."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means has it not occurred to you that they will be _pelting us with paint balls?"_

"Oh, relax, I modified them, it's not going to hurt."

"You're insane." Steve tried and failed not to smile in fond amusement as he said it.

"Maybe." Tony was grinning back in a way that meant he'd totally noticed. "But you know you love it."

Steve opened his mouth, on the edge blurting out _more than you know_, when one of the girls' ringers went off.

_Shine bright like a diam—_

It cut off almost immediately, but Tony was already whipping around.

"I swear to god, Maisy, learn to turn your cell phone off or I will personally call Rihanna and launch into an explanation about how diamonds don't _shine, _they _reflect, _and when she asks why I called I'll tell her it's all Maisy Ericson's fault for driving me up the wall with that inane song."

The students were laughing, and Steve watched in amusement. He let the almost-confession slip to the back of his mind, trying his best to remind himself it was better this way. Telling Tony would only hurt them both.

"Don't you laugh! I'll do it, you don't think I can get Rihanna's number? Try me, you brats—"

"Tony?" Steve put a hand on Tony's arm to calm him. "Shouting at the people who're about to shoot paint balls at you is probably not your best idea."

"Did I say brats? I meant loving, mature, _forgiving _young adults…"

* * *

An hour later, covered head to toe in paint—he would find a way to get Downey back for that crotch shot or he would die trying—Tony knocked impatiently on the faculty bathroom door.

"I have paint in my junk and ten minutes until next period, could you maybe speed it up in there?" he called impatiently.

"I'm decent," Steve called back.

Tony opened the door, and promptly stopped dead as all his blood rushed south.

"What?" The greek god in front of him blinked at Tony quizzically. "Do I still have paint in my hair?"

Tony made an embarrassing noise somewhere between a squeak and a croak. He coughed, attempting to clear his throat, but it was a little hard.

There were a number of things a little hard at the moment.

Steve apparently felt that 'shirtless' counted as 'decent', whereas Tony would classify it somewhere closer to 'coma-inducing'. Could he get brain damage from this? Steve's hair was wet and slicked messily back, probably an attempt to get the paint out, and some of the water in his hair had dripped down his neck and onto his shoulders. It glistened a bit, and Tony couldn't help thinking Steve looked better with a couple flicks of water than anyone else would if they'd been oiled up like a porn star.

Tony had already been relatively sure that Mr. I-work-out-when-I'm stressed Robinson didn't have an ounce of fat on him, but this only confirmed it. Confirmed it _gloriously_. Tony couldn't have stopped his roaming eyes if he'd tried, and to be perfectly honest, he really didn't bother. He greedily drank in the sight of Steve's bare chest, the curves of his abdominal muscles, the slope of his stomach, the faint trial of blonde hair that dipped under his waistband…

Everything was stunningly gorgeous, really, and yes, Tony had dreamed about this, had fantasized about it more times than he could count, got off on the idea more times than was probably decent, but the actual image was still almost a bodily shock.

Those old man polo shirts didn't do Steve justice, but then, a skintight leather suit wouldn't do a body like that justice. Steve should just be naked. Like, always. Always sounded good. He couldn't go to school like that of course, but then, maybe he should just quit, maybe they should both just quit and go be naked in Tony's apartment, like, _right now—_

"Tony, are you alright?" Steve, lovely, concerned Steve, was now moving forward like he was going to put his hand on Tony's forehead.

If Steve touched him right now, Tony was going to climb him like a tree.

"Uh, um." Tony stepped back, clearing his throat again forcefully. Christ, get it together, Stark. "Fine. Just, got a headache suddenly, I hate those, don't you hate those? Everyone hates headaches, what am I saying? I have class, I think, don't you have class? We both have class, everyone has class, we're teachers, let's go do. Teaching. Things."

"Are you sure you're alright? You look warm."

No surprise there, he sure as hell felt warm. Well, to be more accurate, he felt like the spark of desire that had been humming around inside him since the moment he'd meet Steve had been set on fire and was now trying to burn its way out through his dick, but hey, sure, warm.

"I probably am, I don't feel well—" Lies, total lies, he felt fantastic, he felt so aroused it was painful but it was _such good pain— _"—I'm just going to head to the nurses', that's probably a good idea, yup, nurse, bye!"

"Tony?" Steve called after him, but Tony ducked away and dashed out the door before Steve could see anything.

Fuck, he had four minutes until class and he was harder than he'd ever been in his life.

Not to mention he was at a _school, _so it wasn't like he could find some corner and jack off. Well, theoretically he could, but if he got caught he'd not only lose his job but he'd be labeled a pedophile, so yeah, that option was out.

Nasty things, ugly things, sad things, fuck why couldn't he think of anything? Oh, probably because he had Steve-Robinson-tit-o-vision at the moment but—bad train of thought, don't think about Steve's tits. Or his abs. Or that wispy trail of fine blonde hair leading to his—_fuck _dead kittens, crying puppies, crying Steve—_fucking hell that should not be a turn on what was wrong with him—_mangled corpses and, oh, fuck, dead soldiers and the ratatat of gunfire and the hot sting of sand in his throat as the Humvee behind him is attacked and the sleek bomb less than a foot from him proclaims StarkIndustries before it explodes and buries itself in his chest and there's blood there's so much blood—

"—t's okay, Tony, it's okay. That's it, deep breath, there you go—"

"What?" Tony startled back into awareness, jerking forward.

Steve was crouched in front of him, anchoring him to reality with a solid, steady hand on each shoulder. When had he gotten on the ground? He didn't remember sitting down. But he was, clearly, because he was curled up with his back to a wall, and his hands were gripping his hair so hard he thought he might yank it out.

"Shit." Tony breathed. "Shit."

"Hey, it's okay." Steve seemed to sense he was back to himself, relatively speaking, and he reached up to carefully extract Tony's hands from his hair. He ran a hand through it himself, smoothing out the parts Tony had mussed up with a gentle murmur. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I—" Tony started, then stopped, his throat so dry he could hardly form the words. "Water?"

"Yeah." Steve's hand dropped briefly to his cheek, brushing a thumb there so lightly Tony wasn't sure if it actually happened at all. Then he was looping his arm under Tony's shoulders, helping him up. "Let's get you some water."

"Class." Tony shook his head. "I have—"

"You have nothing until you get some water."

"But you—"

"They're functioning young adults, they'll survive five minutes without us." Steve's no-nonsense tone broke, went soft. "Tony, give yourself a minute, okay?"

"You don't have to stay wi—"

"Shut up." The fondness in Steve's voice contradicted his words, not to mention the way he hugged Tony closer even as he spoke.

"I knew I'd grow on you eventually." Tony pointed out somewhat gleefully.

"I think we passed 'growing on me' sometime after you got me to sing 'You Give Love a Bad Name' in front of dozens of strangers." Steve shot him a wry look.

"I still have that as my ringtone for you." Tony grinned. "You were great."

"I didn't know a single one of the words."

"Did I say great? I meant hysterical."

Steve shook his head with a chuckle, and removed his arm from around Tony to let him get a drink from the water fountain. When he finished gulping down somewhere close to a gallon of water, he looked up to find Steve looking much more somber.

"What's with the face?"

"That was my fault, wasn't it?" Before Tony could even open his mouth, Steve continued. He had his jaw set in a way that reminded Tony eerily of someone, though he couldn't quite put a pin on who. "For prying last night. I opened a can of worms you'd been trying so hard to keep a lid on, and I didn't even think about what that might mean for you—"

"To be fair, repression isn't exactly the healthiest coping mechanism to begin with—"

"But it should've been your _choice _and I—"

"Steve, you didn't take that choice from me, okay?" Tony shook his head firmly. "I chose to tell you, because I wanted you to know. And it…helped, I think. Besides, if anyone deserves to hear it from the source, you do. So just…don't take this mess to heart or anything, okay? Hell, I probably should've had a panic attack long before now, isn't that how you're supposed to react to trauma? Hey, look at you, making me normal—"

"I didn't make you _normal, _I gave you _panic attacks—_"

"Attack, singular, don't go jinxing me just yet big guy." Tony tried for a grin. "And like I said, it was bound to happen anyway. I just…got it out of the way, right? Let's look at it like that."

"I couldn't even help." Steve wasn't meeting his eyes, just staring at his shoes as if they held all the answers. For all his broad shoulders and rippling muscles, Steve just looked small. "You were upset and I couldn't _do_ anything."

"Steve, if you hadn't come and got me I'd still be curled up in a corner while students threw peanuts at me, I'd say—"

"While they _what?_ Who did that?" Steve demanded, eyes snapping up.

"Whoa, hey, no one threw anything, it's just a phrase." Tony put his hands in the air innocently. "My point is, you did help. A lot, okay? It's…I'm not used to having someone bother to come after me, and that's, it's good. Nice."

Way to English, Stark.

Steve just stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Tony, you ran out of there like you were possessed, of course I'd go after you."

Not possessed, just horny, but hey, at least now he could chalk that strange behavior up to a panic attack. Which, hey, look at that, extremely awkward erection totally gone.

"We should really get to class." Tony realized. "How late are we?"

"Not much, a few minutes. Phineas won't be very happy with us, but I'm sure the kids are fine." Steve laid a hand on Tony's upper arm and squeezed once, carefully. "It's fine, Tony. I'll see you third period."

"Yeah." Tony nodded, getting his bearings. "Yeah, third period. Cool. I'll just go…get pelted by paint. Again. Whose idea was that, anyway?"

"All yours." Steve used a thumb to wipe a streak of blue paint off Tony's cheek with an amused smile. "You can tell by the mess it made of the quad. Signature Tony Stark, there."

Tony's thoughts flickered briefly to the days when signature Tony Stark meant booze and weapons and sex. He wondered what it meant that he liked this better. It helped that he knew Pepper would just remind him that he was still making explosions and messes for other people to clean up either way, and tell him to stop whining about what most would consider personal growth.

"You know me." Tony smiled back. "If it doesn't add paperwork to Cogman's desk, I obviously wasn't involved."


	8. Chapter 8

Steve was irrationally relieved to wake up drugged and handcuffed to a pole.

Really, he was starting to worry for his sanity. But then, prior to today Iron Man had taken out four warehouses in a row, once a week for the past month, without so much as a heads up. Not that he _liked _being kidnapped, but it lent a certain sense of predictability to things. There was a kidnapping, some banter, he got a few inches closer to talking Iron Man into coming clean, and then he was rescued before he got blown to pieces, which was always a good thing.

Steve knew he was getting close to convincing Iron Man to join SHIELD, work for the good guys. Why else would Iron Man have helped them when the Destroyer went berserk? Steve had been getting through to him, he knew he had. Maybe that was why Iron Man had stopped kidnapping him; Steve had planted doubt in his mind. That was good, that was an important step forward, now Steve just needed to use this opportunity to cement it. He hadn't seen Iron Man since the Destroyer attack more than a month ago; by the time they got the call these days, Iron Man was already long gone, leaving nothing but a destroyed warehouse or a malignant computer virus in his wake.

"So." Steve blinked blearily as he came to awareness. "Been a while."

Iron Man seemed oddly distracted this time, fiddling with a computer terminal to the far left instead of focusing on Steve.

"Needed to know you wouldn't interfere; drugs were the best bet."

"You used to kidnap me for the heck of it."

"Times change, darling." Iron Man shrugged. "Even people, every once in a while."

"You considering switching teams?" Steve felt a heady rush of elation for a moment. Had he really managed to—

"It's a little late for that." Iron Man gave a mechanical sounding snort. "Try retirement. When my work's done here, anyway."

"You're…" Steve blinked in surprise. "Quitting?"

Of all the ways he'd seen their cat and mouse game ending, that hadn't been one.

"I know, half the time I can't believe it either." Iron Man finished whatever it was he was doing on the computer and turned to look at him. Steve got the impression he had a rueful sort of smile underneath the faceplate. "I'm gonna miss this suit like you wouldn't believe."

A long silence stretched between them as Steve tried to wrap his head around it.

"What changed your mind?" he asked eventually. _When I couldn't?_

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Iron Man laughed. It was mechanical, almost hollow sounding, but it was familiar. Steve realized somewhat dully that he'd actually _miss _that. Miss this.

"Try me. I don't know if you've noticed, but 'strange' is kind of the default setting of my life." Steve offered dryly. Iron Man chuckled again.

"Would you believe that the invincible Iron Man, supervillain extraordinaire, has fallen in love?"

Long silence.

"What?" Steve blinked, not entirely sure if Iron Man was screwing with him or not. It would be just like him, but something about Iron Man's tone, even with the mechanical filter, seemed sincere.

"I know, I know." Iron Man waved a hand at him dismissively. "I'm crazy. I'm a supervillain, supervillains don't get the happy ending, et cetera, et cetera, trust me, everything you're thinking, I've thought it and worse. But, and here's the _really _crazy part, I might actually have a shot in hell. So, for them, I'm trying to clean up this messy business once and for all. That's sort of noble, right? It's what I've been telling myself, anyway."

"And in ten years, when they find out you were a supervillain once?" Steve couldn't resist the jab. He loved Tony, he did, but…he had to admit he was a little bitter that someone else could change Iron Man when he couldn't.

"Ten years nothing." Iron Man shook his head. "Soon as this is over, I'm telling them the story from start to finish, and if they're still there at the end of it, I'll tell them I love them. I can't keep a secret like that from them, not if I want a functioning, lasting relationship, which, I know, fucking _crazy, _but, I do. So."

"A supervillain with an honest streak."

"You know me, never could follow the crowd."

"And when they go to the press, the police, and have you arrested?"

"That's their choice." Iron Man shrugged again. "But I trust them."

"Trust doesn't have much to do with it, they're legally obligated—"

"And everything's always that black and white, huh?" Iron Man snorted, but it was more derisive than humorous this time. "Mr. I get kidnapped by a supervillain and I like it?"

"I don't _li—"_

"You do so," Iron Man accused, "There were plenty of times you could've escaped, but didn't. You liked this…thing, whatever it was. And I did too, but there's no trust here. No future. Right?"

For all Iron Man was hidden behind his armor, his gaze seemed piercing.

"Don't be an ass." Steve just glared at him.

"Supervillain, it comes with the territory—look, for all your talk of legalities, of black and white, you know as well as I do that we live in grey. You and I, Hawkeye and Widow, War Machine, Fury, SHIELD…we _drown _in grey. There's no trust between us. How could there be? Them…I trust them with this, with Iron Man, hell, with my life, should I ever have to. And if after they hear my story, if they want to turn me in? They're a far better person than I'll ever be; if they think I belong behind bars, I do, and I'll go."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

"You're really finished, then."

"Believe it, Spangles." Iron Man was grinning now, Steve could tell from the inflection in his voice. "Gonna miss me?"

"More than anyone sane should."

"That's the spirit." Iron Man clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I just pinged War Machine your location. Your squad will be here in five."

"Let me guess, approximately sixty seconds before the warehouse blows?" Steve sighed.

"I gave you ninety, actually. Consider it a farewell gift, Cap." Iron Man gave him a sloppy salute, then he was off, looping through the sky.

* * *

Considering it was a Monday, Tony was in a startlingly good mood.

He'd finished off the last of his list yesterday, wormed his way back into StarkIndustries' server undetected, and said goodbye to Cap and that part of his life; he'd even gone ahead and set off the final virus this morning. By now, Stane had to be screaming at interns and pulling out his few remaining strands of hair.

"You're in a good mood for a Monday." Steve arched an eyebrow at him. "Whose life did you ruin?"

"Someone's making my former business partner cry into his coffee." Tony grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I'm in a great mood."

"You mean that Stane guy?" Clark asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Are you talking about the attack on StarkIndustries?" Steve questioned.

"Who isn't?" Tony pointed out.

It was true; the virus had gone off at seven that morning and it was only noon, but _everyone _was talking about it. It was a thing of beauty, really, the most malignant virus Tony had ever created. He'd shut down power to every StarkIndustries office in continental US, and when their systems came back online, nothing was usable. They all displayed the same message whenever anyone tried to use them:

_You know what I found. Resign or I go public. Tick tock, Obie._

He'd found the video of the Ten Rings offering Stane his head a year ago, when he'd first come back from Afghanistan, he'd just saved it for his big finale, but Stane didn't need to know that. As it was, his essential takeover of StarkIndustries dominated the news on every channel, the topic of every conversation.

Tony was very smug.

"Tony, what Iron Man did was horrible." Steve frowned.

"You don't know Stane. He threatened to fire Pepper, Steve." Tony waved a hand at Pepper's generally fantastic and un-fireable existence. "_Pepper. _To be any more competent at her job, she'd have to be a robot. Scratch that, Dum-E, You, and Butterfingers _combined _couldn't have done her job. _JARVIS _couldn't have done her job, though, that might have something to do with a distinct lack of body parts."

"You flatter me, Tony, really." Pepper rolled her eyes. "Good to know I outclass some mechanical arms and your bodyless butler."

"I'm pretty sure outclassing the bodyless butler is the highest compliment Tony gives." Steve snorted.

"He's right." Tony nodded. "You're a class all your own, Potts, and don't you forget it."

"Is Stane really that bad?" Clark questioned Pepper.

"The way Iron Man did it wasn't legal or particularly advisable…" Pepper sighed. "But Stane certainly won't be missed."

"Who becomes CEO should he step down?" Natalie asked Tony, who only barely resisted the urge to fidget.

"Well, uh. Technically speaking the company reverts back to me, unless I appoint another CEO."

"Will you?" Steve asked.

"I…" Tony paused. He knew what he wanted. He wanted his company back; he'd fought so hard so for it. He knew that with all the destruction he'd caused, a new direction would be welcomed, and he could regain control without becoming the Merchant of Death again. He could lead StarkIndustries away from weapons and towards green energy, towards the future. He was just going to miss this...life he'd found in the midst of everything, that was all. "I don't think so."

The words clearly shocked the group at large, though Steve seemed suspiciously unsurprised. The man really did know him too well for his own good.

"_You want to be CEO again?"_ Pepper's voice hit a particularly shrieky note Tony was pretty sure he hadn't heard since his pre-Afghanistan days.

"Maybe?" Tony winced. "I mean…when I left, everything went to hell. Maybe this is a sign I need to—"

"You don't need to take it back, you'll go _bankrupt, _SI is_—"_

"Collapsing, I know, but if I did away with—"

"We went over this last year, it's a _weapons company, _you can't do away with the weapons, what else_—"_

"There's green energy, we have the RT technology—"

"It's something pretty to show off to investors, it's not a viable new direction for the—"

"It is if I minimize it, make it a cost-efficient substitute for—"

"Tony, that could take—"

"Not for me—"

"This is a _horrible _idea, I—"

"You'll come back with me though, won't you?"

"Don't be stupid." Pepper glared at him. "Someone has to make sure you don't burn the building down."

"Have I mentioned lately what a perfect human being you are?"

"Have _I _mentioned lately how terrifying it is when you two have conversations like that?" Clark wrinkled his nose at them. "I'm still not sure what just happened."

"Tony's taking back his company." Steve smiled at him, and Tony was thrown. Was that…

"Are you…_proud _of me? Is that a_ proud_ smile?" Tony poked Steve's face experimentally.

"Stop that." Steve batted his hand away, but his smile just grew wider. "Yes, it is. I'm proud of you for taking back your company like that. I'm sure you'll rebuild it stronger than ever."

"See!" Tony insisted to Pepper. "Steve believes in me!"

"Steve would believe in you if you told him you were going to sprout wings and fly to the moon, excuse me if I'm a little more realistic." Pepper rolled her eyes.

Clark burst into laughter and Natalie hid a snort, while Tony made an indignant sort of sound and Steve flushed in protest.

"I would _not—"_

The door banged open, and Robert Downey walked in. All five adults looked at him in surprise, but he didn't seem bothered.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" He was looking at Tony, though Tony couldn't imagine why.

"Me?" Tony pointed to himself. "I thought Steve-o here was your favorite."

"Can I talk to you or not?" Robert scowled, hands in his pockets, the picture of teenage angst, and Tony shrugged.

"Okay." He hopped off the table. "Can we get a minute, guys?"

Steve offered his classroom as a substitute place for lunch, and they quickly cleared out.

"So what's the fuss, kiddo?"

"It's serious. Can you be serious?"

"I think I'll manage. Is this a puberty thing?"

"No. I mean, well—"

"Yes you should shower every day, no you won't go blind if you touch yourself a lot, yes there's supposed to be hair down there, no you shouldn't shave it. That's it, that's all I got—"

"Jesus, it's not a puberty thing!" Robert exclaimed, though his face was getting a little red. "Look, you're my best bet, so will you just hear me out?"

"Well come on then, out with it."

"It's about another student." Robert ducked his head in probably the first time since Tony had known him. "A guy."

"You getting bullied? Tell me who, Steve and I'll put the fear of god in that fucker—"

"No, I mean, he's not…it's not like that."

"Oh." Didn't take a genius to figure it out. "You like him."

"Yeah."

"Does he swing your way?"

"What?"

"Is he gay."

"Oh. I think so."

"So tell him."

"I…he's…" Robert scrubbed a hand over his face. "This is so weird, but he's kind of like Mr. Robinson."

"You're right. That's really weird."

"No, I mean…not _exactly, _he's a lot quieter and his sense of humor is really different and he's such a meatball sometimes but that's not the point, he just…they both tend to see the best in people. They're both really…really _good, _y'know?"

"I do." Tony nodded mutely.

"So I want to know how you got Mr. Robinson."

"I swear to god, Downey, for the millionth time—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're 'just friends', I know. As a 'friend', then." Robert rolled his eyes, sarcasm thick in his voice. "How'd you get him to be 'friends' with you?"

"You're a little shit, you know that?" Tony groused.

"You said you'd help."

"Grab him and never let go? I don't know!" Tony threw his hands up. "I don't know, Robert, I really don't. That sort of thing...all you can do is be honest and hope for the best. That's my advice: be honest. It's cheesy and cliché but it's also surprisingly important."

"So what, I should just walk up and tell him I like his face?"

"You…" Tony shook his head with a laugh. "High schoolers, honestly. Do yourself a favor and make it a little more special than 'I like your face', but you've got the basic idea."

"What'd you say to Mr. Robinson when you told him?"

"As I've told you repeatedly, I haven't told him anything."

"Okay, what _would _you say?"

"_If _I liked him, which I'm sure as hell not admitting to a scrawny teenager who exists purely to make my life more difficult—" Tony shot Robert a look. "—I'd tell him that he makes me a better person. That I'm happier with him than I've ever been, and I'd like to stay that way for as long as he'd have me."

"Holy shit, are you gonna propose to him? Is that your proposal speech?" Robert grinned gleefully. "I totally called it, Fluffalo owes me a hundred bucks—"

"_Propose? _Are you _insane, _we only met a few—you know what, get out, I'm done with you, no more advice for obnoxious brats that ignore me anyway." Tony all but shoved Robert out the door. Propose, honestly. Teenagers.

* * *

Steve could really use Tony's insight.

The attack on StarkIndustries had SHIELD in a tizzy; they had no idea what Iron Man could've found on StarkIndustries' servers, had nothing on Obadiah Stane, and had no leads on where Iron Man could be going with this whole thing. The public was worked up too; most speculation now assumed that Iron Man was an ex-StarkIndustries employee, and that Obadiah had done something to personally offend him.

Steve had been over StarkIndustries' employee records for the past decade though, looked into every employee that had ever ceased to work there for any reason, be it they were fired, let go, quit, anything, and hadn't turned up a single possibility. They'd all seemed to move on with their lives easily. For all that could be said about Tony's tenure as CEO, he was undoubtedly generous. His severance packages were among the very best, and he'd taken especially good care of those that left on good terms.

None of this was of any surprise to Steve, who'd seen Tony stay after school for four hours once with a struggling student, but it did mean the Iron-Man-is-a-vengeful-ex-employee theory held very little water.

It was tied into Obadiah somehow, Steve was sure of it, but he wasn't keen on asking Tony outright. Last time he'd pried he'd given Tony a panic attack, something he intended to never, ever repeat if he could help it. It'd been more than a month since then, and Steve could still see it clear as day in his mind. The naked fear in Tony's eyes, the curve of his hunched shoulders as he curled into himself, the shake in his voice even as tried to convince Steve he was fine; he hated that he'd been so helpless, and he hated even more that he'd inadvertently caused it.

Not that he thought asking about Tony's old business partner would bring on a panic attack, but he still tried to be more cautious about these things, and—

"Oh my god, you're making the face again." Tony paused the movie to turn to him accusingly. "Seriously, your anxiety is giving me anxiety, would you just ask already?"

"I don't have anything to—"

"Yes you do, don't even try and tell me you don't, you keep looking at me and making the face—"

"What face?"

"The I-need-to-phrase-this-carefully face."

"You're becoming disturbingly accurate at naming these."

"You have a very expressive face." Tony grinned, bumping his elbow against Steve's. "Now come on, out with it. I'm very interested in learning Jack and Rose's fate and I can't watch the movie in earnest with you sitting there making faces at me, it's very rude."

"Tony, the movie is about a boat that sinks. I'm fairly certain they die."

"Shh." Tony shushed him with a hand on his face.

"Besides, you've seenthis before, you know how it ends—"

"I'm having an emotion, Steve, don't ruin it."

"You know, the longer I know you, the stranger you get."

"Strange awesome?"

"Let's go with strange interesting."

"You know what would be really interesting?" Tony poked him in the side. "If you told me why you're making the face."

"I was wondering what your thoughts were on Iron Man's latest stunt." Steve admitted.

"The virus thing? I told you, I think it's hysterical, the guy's got talent—"

"No, I mean…well, I was wondering if you had any idea what he might have found. Everyone's speculating, but you're the only person I know that would have any real insight. You worked with Obadiah, didn't you?"

"We had a falling out." Tony shrugged, leaving it at that. "There's a number of things Iron Man could've dug up about him. Stane is dirty business."

"You sound like you agree with Iron Man."

"He and I have a common interest, I suppose." Tony sounded amused.

"If you have a common interest, what do you think he's after?"

"Revenge, sounds like." Tony shrugged, not seeming very invested in the topic of conversation. "Who knows?"

"You're not even curious?" Steve frowned. "Are you feeling well?"

"Shut up." Tony grinned. "I just don't think it matters so much anymore, that's all."

"What do you mean, anymore?"

"Well, seems to me like he's going out of the supervillain business, don't you think?"

"What?"

Steve had spent half an hour convincing Nick it wasn't a joke, that Iron Man had really said he was leaving the supervillain business, and here Tony had come to the conclusion all on his own.

"The increased attacks, the sudden focus on StarkIndustries, the forcing Stane to step down…it's all got an air of finality to it, doesn't it?" Tony pointed out. "You ask me, it seems like he's cleaning house, finishing up his affairs."

"I suppose so." Steve head still reeled at the prospect of it. He knew he should be upset about the lack of justice served, but to be perfectly honest, he just felt cheated. Now he'd never learn Iron Man's identity, or the purpose of his vendetta.

"Maybe all he needed was a good reason." Tony gave him a long look Steve couldn't begin to interpret. "Maybe he wants to try and be a better person."

"He's a _supervillain, _why would he care about being a better person?"

He knew he was being a little bitter about it, and that Tony of all people didn't deserve to be snapped at, but all he could think of were the times he'd all but _begged _Iron Man to reconsider, to change sides, to think things through. All the times Iron Man had blown him off.

"You don't think he could change?" Tony's voice was oddly quiet, but Steve was too distracted by his thoughts to notice. "If the right person came along?"

"Because all it takes is a pretty face, right?" Steve said bitterly. "Captain America's been trying to convince him to do the right thing since all this started, but some pretty dame walks by and that's it, game over, that's all it takes?"

"I don't know about a pretty dame, but…maybe someone came along. Someone good. Someone good and genuine and everything he wasn't, and he wanted to be better. For them, but for himself, too. For everyone. What if he just…" Tony looked down at his hands. "If he wanted to try to be the person they thought he was?"

"Then he's fooling himself." Steve snapped, and regretted it almost instantly.

"Maybe." Tony shrugged, but it was stiff, forced.

Steve still felt indignant and frustrated about Iron Man quitting, but he knew he was taking it out on Tony and that wasn't fair.

"Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I just…" Tony cut him off with a frustrated noise, and an aborted hand motion. "I don't think you're being entirely fair."

"He's a supervillain, Tony, it's not as if—"

"People do bad things." Tony said quietly. "It doesn't make them bad people. Right?"

Steve was momentarily stunned silent. Tony just waited for his answer with uncharacteristic patience.

"Tony, I…you're not…" Steve reached between them impulsively to take Tony's hand. "I _know _you, Tony. Just because I think Iron Man's got a screw loose doesn't in any way translate to how I feel about you."

"How you feel about me?"

"I…" Steve's mouth suddenly felt very dry. Backed yourself into a corner with that one, Rogers. Nice. "I feel that you're a very good person who doesn't give yourself nearly enough credit."

"Do you." It wasn't a question, but Steve answered anyway.

"Of course."

Tony's lips quirked to the side at that, just the littlest bit. It was barely even a half-smile, but the sincerity of it stole Steve's breath away all the same. He felt himself lean forward, not to try anything, but purely because something about Tony drew him in like gravity. He knew one of these days he was going to fall too far, was going to fall into Tony completely, and he knew that if he did he'd never be able to pick himself back up again.

He ached to do it all the same.

The ache was a familiar one these days. Usually he managed to hold it close to his chest, but every once in a while, it threatened to break free like a bird from a cage and fly out towards the sun. He wondered often if he would be happier to let himself fall and be burned than keep himself in check all the time.

He could do it now, if he let himself.

Tony was close, impossibly close, and it would take no effort at all to close the space between them. He could take Tony's face in his hands right then, could kiss him until they both couldn't breathe. He could lose hours kissing him, could lose days, weeks, years and Steve wouldn't mind. He'd give Tony all the time he wanted and more, all the time he could possibly spare, because Steve had never wanted anything in his life more than he wanted Tony.

He wanted to lean forward that extra inch and wrap Tony up in his arms, wanted to kiss him without warning. Tony wasn't surprised enough, he thought, and Steve wanted to surprise him, wanted to see the flicker of his expressions as he went from surprise to disbelief to bliss as Steve kissed him again, and kept kissing him long after anything resembling a doubt was gone without a trace.

He wanted to kiss Tony when he was smiling, when he was scowling, when he was plotting a new experiment with that manic, twitchy little smile that just begged to be kissed. He wanted good morning kisses and goodbye kisses and celebratory kisses and just-because-I-can kisses and everything in between. There were a million moments in any given day Steve wanted to kiss Tony, and they flickered through his mind then like a movie still in the making.

Tony's phone went off.

Tony glared at it like it had insulted his mother. Steve felt rather inclined to do the same.

"I have to answer this," Tony grumbled, "Remember the contractor I told you about? It's them. They're military, and very…demanding."

"Go ahead, it's fine." Steve waved him on.

While Tony went into the other room to answer his phone, Steve pulled his own out. He was surprised to find his battery had died, but it did explain why SHIELD would call Tony in the middle of the night and not him. Though, Tony was a tech consultant, what could they possibly want him for? Steve plugged his phone into Tony's charger, and while he was waiting for it to turn on again, Tony finished his call and raced through the living room.

"I've got a, uh, thing." He scrambled for his shoes, grabbing a jacket and his keys as he hopped on one foot. "I technically said they could call me anytime Tuesdays or Thursdays, and it turns out they're holding me to it. Sorry, feel free to stay, obviously, I just won't be back for a while."

"Alright." Steve watched in bewilderment as Tony disappeared out the door in a blur. That didn't seem like the kind of exit consulting work would warrant. What on earth had Nick asked of him?

Finally, his phone came back on, and Steve flicked through his missed calls; four from Nick in the past half hour. He didn't bother listening to the messages, just hit redial. Nick answered immediately.

"You're officially on duty as of a half hour ago. We're sending a quinjet to your location."

"A quinjet? Is that necessary?"

"Short answer is yes. We'll brief you on the details once we've got you on board, right now I don't have the time. Get on the roof, and for fuck's sake, keep your phone on you."

"Yes, sir."

Steve disconnected, grabbed his stuff and Tony's charger—Tony had made it very clear Steve was welcome to his things, and though Steve tried not to take advantage of that, it was apparently an emergency—and headed out the door. He wondered briefly if Tony would be getting on the same quinjet; talk about an awkward reveal.

SHIELD, of course, was smarter than that.

"We brought your suit." Phil said by way of greeting as Steve boarded. "You'll run into Stark often once we're on the Helicarrier, you're to stay in uniform at all times."

"What's this about?" Steve accepted his suit. "Why'd you bring in Tony?"

"He's the best brain we've got, and we could use it right about now. We gave him a briefing file; in a few hours he'll know more about gamma radiation than anyone but Dr. Banner himself."

"Dr. Banner?"

"Part-time gamma radiation specialist, part-time Hulk." Phil passed him a file with a familiar-looking A on the front. "Read up, Captain."

"Where've I seen this before?" Steve frowned at the symbol.

"Officially, it stands for Alpha Team." Phil told him, poker face as straight as ever.

"Officially." Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"Officially." Phil nodded. "Best get changed, the ride isn't much longer."

Steve followed Phil's advice, changing quickly and settling in to read as much of the file as he could. They'd found the tesseract, but something had gone wrong in their testing and Thor's—the extraterrestrial he'd tangled with a while back—brother, Loki, had used it as a doorway into SHIELD's facility. He'd destroyed the facility, killed more than eighty people, and taken Clint as one of his own.

Steve sighed; why couldn't they have just left the damn thing in the ocean?

Dr. Bruce Banner was a highly acclaimed scientist who'd experimented with gamma radiation a few years back as an alternative to Erskine's formula; instead, he'd given himself a terrifyingly dangerous condition. Natasha had gone to India to track him down so he could help them locate the tesseract, which apparently had a very distinctive gamma signature.

Natasha, efficient as always, had already brought him in by the time they arrived at the Helicarrier. Steve shook his hand firmly and made sure to look him in the eye. Dr. Banner seemed quiet and rather nervous, but he had a good sense of humor if you listened for it.

Steve managed to wait until they were inside before he asked.

"Widow, would you happen to know where—"

"I'm taking Dr. Banner to see Stark now, Captain, you're welcome to follow."

"Right." Steve smiled a bit sheepishly. "Thanks."

"Stark," Dr. Banner mused, "That's Tony Stark? The weapons specialist?"

"Former weapons specialist," Steve corrected.

"He's a consultant for SHIELD now." Natasha clarified. "He'll be assisting you in the search for the cube."

"Word is you can find it?" Steve asked hopefully. The sooner Dr. Banner found the tesseract, the sooner Tony could go home and get out of danger.

"That the only word on me?"

"Only word I care about." Steve told him honestly.

They entered the bridge, and Steve stopped short.

Tony was in a heated argument with Phil.

_Phil, _Phil.

"—_bullshit _it had nothing to do with me—"

"The world, fortunately, does not in fact revolve around you, Stark—"

"You're telling me you're playing high school principal for a—"

"Vice principal."

"Fuck you! For a mission that has _absolutely nothing _to do with the former number one weapons developer in the world who you just so happened to recently convince to design you a soldier? Bullshit this had nothing to do with me, you fucking played me!"

"My assignment at Midtown high school had absolutely nothing to do with you. You weren't even on our radar—"

"Funny, because according to Fury you never lost my number—"

"We don't lose anything. Doesn't mean you're on a watch list."

"Then what the hell _were _you there for?"

"That's cl—"

"If you say classified, I will literally scream."

"I think you've scarred the rookies enough for one lifetime."

"Oh my god, that was _one time! _It's not _my _fault your agents are so damn jumpy, I mean, come on, one teensy tiny explosion and they start trying to shoot me—"

"You were in a restricted area—"

"It's only restricted if you can actually keep me out, which, hello, of course you can't, I'm me—"

An alert was triggered then, cutting Tony off mid-sentence. Everyone reacted immediately, and Tony seemed to know well enough that he dropped the argument almost instantly. He disappeared in the surge of moving agents, but Steve only had a brief moment to worry before he and Natasha were being led away to a quinjet bound for Stuttgart, Germany.

He could only hope that if the danger was that far away, Tony might be able to stay out of it.


	9. Chapter 9

_Back in black, I hit the sack / it's been too long, I'm glad to be back…_

"Miss me?" Tony grinned to the Black Widow as he hijacked her PA system.

He'd considered Shoot to Thrill, but considering as of yesterday he was technically retired, Back in Black seemed more appropriate. He shot past the quinjet and swooped in low, blasting the horned supervillain SHIELD was calling "Loki" back and away from Cap. He extended both hands, taking aim with his repulsors and a number of other weapons.

"Make your move, Reindeer Games." Loki put both hands cautiously in the air, his getup disappearing as he surrendered. Great. Magic. "Good move."

"You've had a very active retirement." Cap was back on his feet now, and he shot Tony a glance.

"Figured the potential end of the world might call for a little intervention." Tony shrugged. "Your copy-me's off with the military, isn't he? Seemed like you could use the firepower."

As a part of his contract with SHIELD, Rhodey had made it very clear that he, and therefore War Machine, belonged to the US government first and SHIELD second. It was currently causing a bit of frustration, because it meant Rhodey was stuck in a foreign country and unable to respond to Fury's call. Sure, Tony was technically retired now, but he couldn't just leave the Cap Squad high and dry if he could help.

Besides, Steve would've told him that if he could help, he should.

"We could. Is that you saying you'll stick around?"

"Depends, are you going to arrest me if I do?"

"I think that can be postponed until all extraterrestrials are back on their home planets."

"Then you've got yourself some firepower, Cap." Tony gave a sloppy salute. "You'll excuse me if I'm not keen on riding in your jet though."

"We won't arrest you until after Loki and Thor are home, you have my word." Cap leveled him with a look. "I keep my word."

"Message received and appreciated, but I'd still rather fly." Tony shook his head, taking back off into the sky without another word.

Cap couldn't understand. The suit was more than armor, it was a part of him. It was his most precious creation, the second skin he'd created to save himself, to avenge himself, and now to redeem himself. Giving it up, even for Steve, _hurt. _He'd miss working on it, miss using it, but mostly he'd miss flying it; there was nothing more exhilarating in the world.

He sure as hell wasn't wasting any of the time he had left on a quinjet when he could still fly.

Besides, riding in the quinjet would be awkward. StarkIndustries was still in blackout since Stane wasn't resigning, trying to force Iron Man's hand. StarkIndustries, Stane in particular, was probably putting massive pressure on SHIELD to find and apprehend him, and here they were, working together.

For the sake of humanity, but.

Still.

They didn't get very far before storm clouds began to swirl. If Tony hadn't seen it with his own eyes he might not have believed it, but from the clouds emerged a man. He was using a hammer to fly, and a bright red cape billowed out behind him. Could that be Thor?

"And now there's that guy," he muttered to himself. Then, he patched into the quinjet's intercom. "Widow, you've got incoming—"

Thor landed with a thud, rocking the quinjet with the force of it. The hatch opened, and when Thor went to enter through it, Tony tackled him. Instead of knocking him down, however, Thor just grabbed him by the arm and threw him over his shoulder. He went flying into Cap, sending them both to the ground. By the time they were back on their feet, Thor and Loki were gone.

Tony launched out after him and Cap, unsurprisingly, followed. Tony and Thor nearly leveled the forest before Cap arrived, but Tony felt great; he hadn't gone toe to toe with someone that strong in ages. Once Cap showed up, he used the diversion to jet off, out of sight of both Cap and the quinjet. The offer to not be arrested was great and all, but if Cap got back to the Helicarrier and Tony wasn't there, he was going to notice.

Cap _always _noticed.

Ever since Tony had ducked out on their little dinner date—later explaining he'd "had a lab emergency, sorry"—the guy seemed to watch his every move. He'd tried to talk to Tony a couple more times, but Tony was pretty good about making an immediate exit. He didn't know if Cap was super friendly or super suspicious or what, but if they were in the same room, Cap was bound to gravitate towards him.

It was kind of a pain in the ass.

Either way, it meant Tony needed to get back to the Helicarrier first. He raised his reflection shields as soon as he got close, sneaking back onboard the same way he'd snuck off, through a maintenance entrance near the engines. He let the suit disassemble and fold back up, then hid it behind one of the panels in the walls and went off to the lab he'd been provided.

While waiting for the return of the Cap Squad, he pulled up his secure laptop and worked on his suit specs; was there a way to get the suit to come to him remotely? That'd be useful. He'd adjusted the suitcase suit to come via a pair of black bracelets, but what about when he wasn't wearing them, or if they got knocked off…

Soon enough, nearly an hour had passed, and the Cap Squad had returned with Loki in custody and Thor's cooperation. Tony would be impressed, but then, this was Captain America, after all. Of course he'd succeeded. Tony left his lab to join the team on the bridge, and watched with them as Nick locked Loki up on one of the screens. They began discussing Loki's next move—according to Thor, the guy had an alien army at his disposal.

"An army." Cap had a look on his face that just screamed 'why is this my life'. "From outer space."

"Would you prefer Nazis?" Tony snorted.

"At least I know how to kill a Nazi." Cap shrugged, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Aliens, who knows?"

"Wait, you mentioned a portal?" Bruce pointed out. "That's what he'll be needing Selvig for."

The conversation returned to the threat at hand, but Cap kept _looking _at him, seeming unreasonably pleased that Tony had acknowledged his existence. What was with this guy? He managed to let it slide to the back of his mind as the topic of iridium came up. He rattled off what he knew, explaining that it'd stabilize the portal and keep it open for Loki's army.

"When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?" Maria eyed him shrewdly.

"He teaches it," Cap piped up, and Tony snorted.

"My brats wouldn't understand thermonuclear astrophysics if it bit them in the ass. I teach regular physics, but good try Capsicle." Tony patted him on the shoulder as he passed. "I know you're still working on that whole future thing."

"I understand physics better than you'd think." Cap had a secretive sort of smile on his face, the kind of smile that said _I know something you don't._

That smile irrationally pissed Tony off.

"Better than Point Break over there, maybe." Tony snorted. "Not that you'd get that reference, but—"

"I do, actually." There was that god damn smile again. "The movie about the FBI agent trying to catch bank robbers who might be surfers, wasn't it?"

"Who had the patience to show _you _how to work a DVD player?"

"A friend." Again with the creepy, overly pleased smile.

"How does that work, with the secret identity thing? Can you only hang out with them in spandex, or do you just lie to their face?" Tony threw out blithely, ready to say anything to get that weird smile off the guy's face. It was too…familiar, somehow, too déjà vu, and Tony didn't like it.

Whatever he'd said clearly hit a hell of a nerve, because from the look on Cap's face he might as well have personally drop-kicked the guy's puppy off an overpass.

"I—" Cap started, then abruptly stood. "I should go."

"Captain—" Widow began, but Cap was already gone, disappearing down the hall. She turned to Tony with a piercing glare, and Tony had the eeriest feeling he'd seen that look before. Pepper maybe? "Stark, you are the stupidest genius I've ever met."

"That's both an oxymoron and entirely untrue." Tony rolled his eyes. "He's the one that's been staring at me like I have a Nazi symbol painted on my forehead."

"That is not even close to how he stares at you." Widow snorted softly.

"But you admit he's been staring." Tony pointed his pen at her in accusation.

She gave a mute shrug.

"I thought you knew him." Bruce seemed surprised.

"Nope." Tony popped the p. "I'm just so devilishly handsome even Captain America can't resist, that's all. Now, I want to get my hands on this staff of Loki's—interested in playing with me, doctor?"

"I'd like a look." Bruce nodded his agreement with a wry smile.

They spent the next two hours taking readings and comparing with Selvig's notes. It was exhilarating to finally have someone around who could speak English, and they kept a steady conversation through it all. Bruce never once asked him to explain what he meant or define terms or anything like that; it was a pure flow of genius, and Tony was practically bouncing with excitement about it.

"You know, you ought to come by my workshop sometime," Tony offered, "It's like candyland for guys like us."

"Thanks, but last time I was in New York, I kind of broke…Harlem."

"Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…"

He jabbed Bruce.

"Ow!"

Tony leaned in, looking into his eyes for some indicator of change, some green spark.

"Nothing?" Tony tried not to sound disappointed.

"Hey!" Oh, great. Captain Tightspandex was here to read him the riot act. "Are you nuts?"

"Jury's out." Tony shrugged, ignoring Cap to focus on Bruce. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mello jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"

"Not everything's a joke, Tony." Cap crossed the room. "If he'd changed, he could've killed you—no offense, doctor."

"It's alright." Bruce just chuckled. "I wouldn't have come onboard if I couldn't handle pointy things."

"And _I _wouldn't have made it past my teenage years if I didn't learn risk management; relax, Cappy, I think I can look out for myself."

"Maybe, but you shouldn't even still be here, Dr. Banner can analyze the staff on his own—"

"Oh, _now_ you're eager to get me off the ship?" Tony snorted. "Half the time you can't keep your eyes off me, suddenly you want me gone?"

"I want you safe." Cap's jaw went tight. "You're a civilian."

"Is that what it is? You stare at all civilians until they get off your ship, Cap?"

"Just do what you came here to do." Was Tony imagining things, or was that the beginnings of a blush under Cap's hood? "Focus on the problem."

"You think I'm not? Why did Fury call us in, why now?" Tony demanded. "Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables."

"You think Fury's hiding something." Cap chuckled. "Why am I not surprised."

"He's a spy. Cap, he's _the _spy. His secrets have secrets." He opened a packet of blueberries he'd hidden onboard and popped a handful as he glanced at Bruce. "Buggin' him too, isn't it?"

"Uh…" Bruce froze. "I just wanna finish my work here, and—"

"Doctor?" Cap raised an eyebrow.

"A warm light for all mankind." Bruce sighed. "Loki's jab at Fury about the cube. I think that was meant to make us think."

"How so?"

"Well, SHIELD isn't typically interested in things like green energy, is it?" Bruce pointed out.

"I'm working on that." Tony nodded. "Once my decryption program finishes with the tesseract files, we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?"

He extended the bag, meaning it more as a way to irritate Cap by being flip than to actually offer him food.

"Thank you." Cap took a handful anyway, with that same rueful, knowing sort of smile. "And you're confused about why they'd want to keep you out."

"An intelligence organization that fears intelligence?" Tony swiped his bag back from Cap, annoyed that his attempt to irritate the guy hadn't even fazed him. "Historically, not awesome."

"Loki's just trying to wind us up." Cap shook his head, not taking the bait. "This is a man that means to start a war. If we don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them."

"Following's not really my style."

"That's for sure." Cap chuckled, which was definitely not the expected reaction. The more time Tony spent around this guy, the less he liked him. "Just find the cube, Tony."

* * *

Why was it always weapons?

Much as Steve wanted Tony off the ship as soon as possible, he'd been willing to admit Tony was right; there was definitely something fishy about SHIELD claiming to want the tesseract for green energy purposes. Hours seemed a long time to wait for the results of Tony's decryption though, so Steve had decided to see what he could dig up the old-fashioned way.

Which, of course, turned out to be weapons. Lots of them, and pretty damn similar to Hydra weapons at that. He carried one back with him as proof.

"What _is_ phase two?" Tony demanded of Nick as Steve entered.

He tossed the weapon on the table, drawing everyone's attention; he took a moment to relish the surprise on Tony's face.

"Phase two is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons." Steve glared at Nick, then with a hint of a smile in Tony's direction. "Sorry, computer was moving a little slow for me."

"Captain, we gathered everything related to the tesseract, this does not mean—"

"I'm sorry, Nick, what were you lying?" Tony twirled a screen around to show blueprints for the phase two weapons, the trademark SHIELD file stamp visible in the corner.

"Guess the world hasn't changed as much as I thought." Steve leveled the director with a look. It felt good to have Tony on his side for once, but that was far overshadowed by his disappointment in SHIELD.

Thor and Natasha entered, and Dr. Banner was the first to notice.

"Did you know about this?" he questioned Natasha.

"Do you want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?" Natasha was eyeing Bruce carefully, and Steve got the distinct impression she knew something they didn't. That wasn't unusual, but it seemed relevant.

"I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed."

"Loki is manipulating you." There it was.

"And you've been doing what, exactly?"

"You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you—"

"Yes and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy." Dr. Banner stepped forward to direct her attention to the screen Tony had pulled up of phase two blueprints. Steve found his respect for Dr. Banner growing; for all his anxiety about authority, he seemed to have no trouble standing his ground when he chose to. "I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction."

"Because of him." Nick pointed accusingly at Thor. "Few months ago, earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet." Thor looked affronted.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you?" Nick demanded, "And you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched. Iron Man's a perfect example. We've been after him for how long now, and we still can't touch the guy—"

"He helped us earlier—" Steve reminded Nick.

"But he can't be controlled." Nick just shook his head.

"Like you control the cube?" Steve challenged.

"Your work with the tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies," Thor insisted, "It is a signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"A higher form?"

"You forced our hand, we had to come up with—"

"A nuclear deterrent?" Tony snorted. "Because that always calms everything right down."

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Nick shot Tony a look, and Steve shot him a glare.

"Back off, he doesn't make weapons anymore—"

"Wait, hold on, what're you doing defending me?"

"I'm not defending, I'm clarifying—"

"No, you're defending, and I'm more than capable of doing that myself, thanks. I don't need your star-spangled ass always on mine, alright?"

It only got worse from there. It wasn't just him and Tony that began to argue either, but the entire team. Thor and Nick argued about control of the tesseract, Bruce and Natasha traded jabs about some watch list. At the mention of a threat watch, Tony snorted.

"You're on that list? Is that above or below angry bees?"

"One more crack, Tony, I swear—"

Part of it was that he felt hurt. Steve was self-aware enough to acknowledge that Tony's jabs were affecting him far more than they would coming from another SHIELD agent, or even another friend. But there was anger there too, dark and irrational and growing larger every second, fed by Steve's hurt at Tony's words and the miserable helplessness he felt about their future.

"Threat, verbal threat! I feel threatened."

"We're a time bomb." Bruce shook his head ruefully.

"You need to step away," Nick warned.

"Why shouldn't the guy let off a little steam?" Tony clasped a hand to his shoulder, but it was more jocular than affectionate.

"You know damn well why!" Steve snapped. There were thoughts he wanted to voice; _because he could kill you. Because I need to keep you safe. __Because I couldn't bear to lose you too._ These thoughts, however, were discarded, overrun by the black anger bubbling up inside. He slapped Tony's hand away. "Back off!"

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me."

"Big man strutting around with his toys in a lab, what good's that going to do you when Loki's army comes?" Steve jabbed a finger in Tony's chest. "Nothing! You'll be exposed and vulnerable, and what if I'm not there? What if I lose sight of you for half a second and something happens? You think I can live with that, Tony? Because I can't!"

"What, I'm weak just because I'm not some big _'hero' _like you?" Tony snarled, "You're a laboratory experiment, _Captain._ Everything special about you came out of a _bottle."_

Steve felt like he'd been punched in the gut by the Hulk, breathless and without comeback. Tony's words did more damage than Tony could've known, and for the briefest of moments, the anger lifted. It was just hurt left, hurt and the deep, almost irresistible desire to tell Tony who he was. To ask if he really thought that, not of Cap but of Steve.

Then Thor called them petty and tiny, and the group was distracted as Dr. Banner told them of the time the Hulk prevented his own suicide. He went on, daring them to ask how he stayed calm…as he picked up Loki's scepter. The computer interrupted them before anything more could happen with a beep, having located the tesseract. Steve turned to ask Dr. Banner where the tesseract was, and in an instant they were all arguing again, which meant Steve never saw Tony slip out the door.

* * *

Tony stumbled into the hallway, rubbing blearily at his eyes. What _was _that? All the mild irritation he'd felt for Cap had suddenly surged into full-blown anger out of seemingly nowhere, and the others hadn't seemed in particularly good moods either. Could the scepter have been doing something to them? Tony scowled; fucking magic.

Tony opened the panel he'd hid the suit in with ease, planning to escape out the side and go after the tesseract himself. He could get there the fastest, after all, there was no reason to wait around for the Cap Squad to get their shit together. That plan was derailed, however, when an explosion rocked the Helicarrier. It seemed to have come from the lab he'd just been in, and in spite of their recent spat, Cap was an alright guy and Tony didn't want him _dead _or anything.

The HUD flicked online and Tony took off down the hall, reappearing in the lab. Bruce and Natasha had fallen through where the floor had broken apart, while Thor and Nick had been blasted backwards through the glass into another section. Only Cap remained in the room, and Tony bent to help him up.

"Hey, what happe—"

"Tony." Cap coughed. "Tony Stark."

Tony's heart sank somewhere into the pit of his stomach.

Just like that, it was over?

He could've gone clean, if he hadn't come back. He could've spent the rest of his life as an honest businessman, could've had Steve by his side for it. Steve, who he probably wouldn't even get a chance to explain things to. Tony remembered Cap once saying he'd visit him in jail, but it was very clear to him exactly who he really wanted to see when all this came to an end.

"Cap, I can expl—"

"Where is he?" Cap interrupted him to demand, and this time Tony went blank.

"What?"

"Tony, where is he?" Cap accepted the hand up. "Don't act like you haven't been spying around the whole time, I don't care; just tell me where Tony went. Did he get out, or did he fall under?"

His cover wasn't blown.

Oh God, his cover wasn't blown. He was so preoccupied with thanking every deity he knew of that it almost didn't register Cap was looking for him, the _real _him.

"Oh, uh I don't know." Tony shrugged. "Sorry. I showed up when I heard the blast, I didn't see him. What do you want with Mr. Stark, anyway? Surely you can save the day without him, he's just a civilian—"

"Not your concern." Cap shut that line of questioning down immediately.

"Touchy touchy." Tony raised an eyebrow, not that Cap could see him behind the faceplate. "I'll keep an eye out. Right now we might want to concern ourselves with whoever's attempting to blow up your ship—"

"We have capable agents working on that, I need to find Tony. He's not trained like they are, he's in danger—"

"Relax, he's just a scared civilian, he probably ducked out the back door when things started going boom. I know you're new to the century and all, but it can't be surprising that he's a cowar—"

The forearm slammed against his windpipe made it hard to finish that sentence.

"Tony Stark is not a coward, and we're not discussing this any further." Cap's eyes were dangerous, angry in a way Tony wasn't sure he'd seen before. "Go help someone else, and get the hell out of my sight. That's an order."

"I don't take orders from—"

But Cap was already gone, shoving Iron Man in one direction and taking off in another.

Hello, Twilight Zone.

Whatever, he could focus on Cap's weirdo obsession with him later. For the moment, he patched into SHIELD's comm lines and listened in for where he could be of help.

"External detonation, number three engine is down." It was Maria, and there was a long pause while she talked to someone else. "Someone's got to get out there and patch that engine."

"This is Iron Man." Tony buzzed in as he made his way through the hall and out to engine three. "Sounds like you could use a hand."

"What the—fuck it, I don't even care, this is not my week." Nick gave an aggressive sounding sigh. "Iron Man, get out there and fix the engine. Captain, go with him, he'll need a hand and we need an eye on him."

"Sir, we're missing—"

"Captain, we're gonna lose everyone onboard you don't help Iron Man keep this ship in the air."

There was a moment's pause, and what the fuck was that about? Why was Captain America so desperate to find some random inventor he barely knew? Tony had made it obvious on numerous occasions they weren't even friends, and as Tony and Cap, they'd been all but screaming at each other a minute ago. What the hell was up with this guy?

"Understood, sir, I copy." Cap's voice came over the comm, then he was bursting out through a busted door. "Iron Man, I'm here."

"Good, let's see what we got." Tony flew over, and JARVIS began pulling up the blueprints and pointing out problems. "I've got to get this superconducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris…I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position."

Cap nodded, and set off to do just that, while Tony worked his way inside the engine.

"What's it look like in there?" Tony asked when Cap didn't tell him what position the relays were in.

"It seems to run on some form of electricity."

Tony had a sudden, aching longing for Steve to be here. That was exactly the sort of thing he'd say, the same dry, witty kind of humor. He didn't want Steve in danger, obviously, but he still wished for his friend's presence. It'd only been half a day since he'd left him in the apartment, but it felt like much longer.

"Well, you're not wrong." Tony sighed. "Does it look damaged?"

"No."

"Alright. Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't engage without a jump. I'm gonna have to get in there and push."

"If that thing gets up to speed you'll get shredded."

"There's a stator control unit can reverse the polarity long enough to disengage Maglev and—"

"Speak English!"

God, that was just Steve all over. Tony shook his head—he had Steve on the brain, and he needed to focus.

"See the red lever, winghead? It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word."

Tony began work eliminating the debris, and before long he had enough cleared away that he could get it jumpstarted. Right as he got in to push, the whole Helicarrier began to tilt.

"Iron Man, we're losing altitude." Nick's voice came over his comm.

"Yeah, I noticed." He hit the thrusters, doing his best to get the rotors up to speed.

Soon enough, the turbine began to move faster than him.

"Cap, hit the lever."

"I need a minute here!"

"Lever." Tony insisted as the rotors moved further and further from him. "Now!"

Then, it slipped away completely, and he found himself pressed against one. He only had a brief moment to panic.

"Uh-oh."

Then he was being smacked around like a goddamn pinball until Cap finally reached the lever. Once he slipped out he was able to help take care of Loki's brainwashed agents, knocking one out right before it could shoot Cap in the face. He hit the floor facedown, and rolled over with an exhausted grunt.

Being a hero was so much more work than being a villain.

"Agent Coulson is down." Tony froze. It was Nick's voice on the comm line. Another agent responded immediately about a medical team being sent, but Nick just sighed. "They're here. They called it."

* * *

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket."

Steve winced as Nick tossed a handful of bloody cards onto the table. He picked one up, observed himself in the USO tour uniform. The card had his loopy signature on it; he vaguely remembered feeling irritated and overpublicized, not putting in the effort to give a real, legible signature.

"We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor…I got nothing for you. I lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming." Nick gave another heavy sigh. "Yes. We going to build an arsenal with the tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though because I was playing something even riskier."

There was a long pause. He gave Steve and Iron Man each a long, assessing look, lingering on Iron Man.

"We factored you into this plan, hoping you'd join us eventually. I don't know if this is that moment or not, but it's something to consider." Nick turned away. "There was an idea. Agent Coulson knew this. It was called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea. In heroes."

Iron Man stood, leaving abruptly.

"Well. It's an old-fashioned notion."

Steve gave the cards another glance, then left to go after Iron Man. He found him in the room where Loki's container had been. Steve hung by the door, letting Iron Man be the first to speak.

"Was he married?" Iron Man asked.

"No. There was a cellist in Portland, but." Steve sighed, wishing now that he'd asked more. "No. Did you know him?"

Steve couldn't help but ask. Something about Iron Man's silence was introspective, unnatural. As if he was grieving.

"Not as well as I thought."

"He was a good man."

"He was an _idiot."_ Iron Man seethed.

"Why, for believing?" Steve demanded, "Just because you—"

"For taking on Loki alone! He was out his league, he should've waited, should've—"

"Sometimes there isn't a way out, shellhead." Steve shook his head.

"Yeah, I've heard that before." Iron Man dismissed him.

"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"

"We are _not _soldiers." Iron Man reacted violently to that, spinning around and hissing the words like poison. Steve was sure that if he could see behind the man's mask, his eyes would be lit up with fury. But Iron Man paused, stepping back after a moment, as if correcting himself. "I'm not marching to Fury's fife."

"Neither am I." Steve agreed. "He's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now? We have to put that behind us and get this done. Loki needs a power source—"

"He made it personal." Iron Man interrupted.

"That's not the point."

"That is the point. That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

"To tear us apart."

"Yeah, divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? _That's _what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."

"Right. Like his act in Stuttgart."

"Yeah. That's just the previews, this is opening night, and Loki, he's a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered—son of a bitch."

"What?" Steve blinked, lost.

"StarkTower."

"Why there?" Steve questioned, swallowing the resurgence of panic that hit him just hearing Tony's name.

Steve hadn't been able to find him. He'd asked every agent he'd run into, but the ship's surveillance was down and it was too big to go searching every corner on foot, not with the fate of the world hanging over their heads. He had to take care of Loki first, and hope to God Tony was okay in the meantime.

"Thanks to Hawkeye, Loki probably knows I've got a vendetta against them, not to mention it's the biggest building in the city. If he wants a stage, that's his target." Iron Man started heading for the door.

"I'll get Widow and we'll meet you in the city. You get there first and see what you can do. Keep me in the loop." Steve tapped a finger to his comm link, and Iron Man nodded.

"Will do, Cap."


	10. Chapter 10

They worked together beautifully.

In spite of spending the last year fighting them, or perhaps because of it, Iron Man fought alongside the team like he'd been doing it all his life. He and Hawkeye in particular; Clint seemed ecstatic to have someone to catch him, and used it as an excuse to leap off at least twice the usual amount of buildings. Iron Man was great though, caught him every time and launched him at the next alien without question.

Iron Man worked perfectly with Steve, as well. They moved like they'd been doing it all their lives, shooting repulsors and slinging his shield in sync to take out the most aliens in one go. Thor was a big help too, helping bottleneck the portal, but it was Iron Man who surprised Steve the most.

"I'm telling you, Cap," Iron Man grunted as he ducked before repulsoring another alien's head off, "Banner's gonna show."

"All bad things converge at once, is that it?" Steve sighed as he did the same with his shield, tucking into a roll to dodge the next blow and catch it on a ricochet.

"What? No, he's going to help."

"Help? Iron Man, he's out of control—"

"So was I, yet here I am," Iron Man pointed out.

"Completely different."

"Not _completely. _The public misunderstood us both, made us out to be bigger monsters than we were."

"You're not a monster." Steve rolled his eyes. "Misguided, yes. Bad intentions, more often than not. A monster? Hardly."

"See? You learned to love me."

"The word 'tolerate' might be more appropriate."

"Oh, don't lie, Capsicle." Iron Man chuckled. He'd moved a ways away from Steve now, but they were all in contact via the comms at this point so it didn't matter much. "You know you enjoyed our adventures as much as I did."

"I wouldn't say 'enjoyed' so much as 'put up with for the common good'."

"Careful darling, flatter me too much and my ego might explode."

"You? No, you're much too humble." Steve snorted.

"What adventures?" Hawkeye interrupted, sounding rather disgruntled. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, just all the times I tied him up like porn star and kept him ready to do my bidding in empty warehouses." Iron Man snickered, clearly finding it funny to mess with Hawkeye. "Kinky little thing, your Cap."

"Can it, shellhead—" Steve started.

"And what's with the shellhead?" Clint just talked over him. "Wait, are you two _flirting?"_

"We are _not," _Steve insisted at the exact moment Iron Man complained, "Old habits die so hard."

"You are, you're flirting! _Flirterers!_" Clint accused.

"Hawkeye, focus on the—"

"_You _focus! Like maybe on the fact that you're leading my best friend on while you flirt with a _supervillain!"_

"No one's leading anyone on—"

"And I'm helping right now, do we really need to bring up the 'supervillain' title?" Iron Man objected.

"Not helping," Steve warned at the same time Clint snapped, "Fuck off, homewrecker!"

"Hawkeye, for God's sake, can we talk about this after the _alien invasion?" _Steve insisted.

"You better believe we're gonna talk about it," Clint grumbled, "Fucking flirterers."

Then, just as Iron Man predicted, Dr. Banner showed up, right in time to get angry and smash one of the Leviathans into the ground. Steve called out orders and they dispersed, each member of the team maneuvering with the others like they'd been born to fight together. Considering the circumstances that brought them together and the way their skill sets fit, Steve wasn't so sure they hadn't been.

Soon enough, Natasha found her way to the top of the tower and called it.

"I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down."

"Do it!" Steve answered immediately.

"No, wait!" Iron Man interrupted him.

"Iron Man, these things are still coming—"

"I got a nuke coming in. It's going to blow, and I know just where to put it."

"That's a one way trip," Steve warned him, but they all knew there was no point. Iron Man would do the right thing.

"I know what I'm doing here, winghead."

"I always knew there was a hero in you," Steve told him honestly, "Now so will everyone else. I'll make sure of it. That's a promise, shellhead."

"Yeah, well." Iron Man took a breath, a shaky sort of laugh. "Someone keeps telling me that doing bad things doesn't make you a bad person, and the thing is, for that to be true, you've gotta do some good to weigh it out, right? I'm a little behind quota these days, supervillainy, and all that, but I think he'll…this is, this is good. I went out even. He'll like that."

_People do bad things, Tony. It doesn't make them bad people._

Everything fell into place, the last of so many puzzle pieces slotting into place and filling Steve with horrible, terrifying certainty.

"Tony?" The name felt ripped from his lungs, breathless and painful all at once.

"Figured out my identity, huh? Suppose it doesn't matter now—"

"_Oh my God." _Steve's knees buckled, and he had to grab a nearby car just to keep himself upright. The metal bent and twisted under his white-knuckle grip.

"Tony?" To anyone else Natasha might have sounded impassive, but Steve knew her well enough to hear the surprised, startled worry in her voice.

"You don't mean…not _our _Tony?" Clint's voice went from confused to panicked in the space of a second as he realized exactly how likely it was. "Right?"

"I've got limited time, I'm going to need you all to curb the shock here—"

"Tony, I—" Steve started.

"Cap, seriously—"

"No, Tony—"

"Cap, I have about a minute til I _die,_ I need you to shut up and listen." Tony refused to let him speak, too desperate to get something out. "I need you to find someone when I'm gone, the person I was telling you about—his name's Steve Robinson, he teaches at the same school I did. I'm calling but he's not answering, and if you're homophobic you need to get the hell over it because I need you to do this for me, okay? I need you to tell him, all of it: that I loved him, that I was Iron Man, that I was going to quit for him, but most importantly that he made me better, he made _happy, _and I would've…I would've done_ anything_ for him, you have to tell him that, he—" Tony's voice broke, the closest to hysterical Steve had ever heard him. "He _has_ to know."

"I know," Steve answered immediately, his voice a jumbled mixture of astonishment and panic, "I know, Tony, I—Captain America, Steve, I'm—it's me."

Three precious seconds ticked by in silence.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"I love you too, I'm sorry I didn't—"

"I don't fucking care, I don't, I should but I don't, all that matters is how _fucking _relieved I am that I get to say it to you myself and I know you heard me the first time but I'm going to say it again because I love you, Steve, I love you so fucking much it's absurd, our fucking_ students_ could tell, probably because I spent all my time coming up with crazy experiments to impress you and I know that's stupid but—"

"It's not, mine caught me drawing you all the time and they always asked why we weren't dating but I never had a good answer, because there wasn't one. I told myself I wanted to protect you but I was just selfish, I didn't want to think about what it'd be like not having you in my life anymore. And God, I'm so angry with you for keeping this from me but I kept plenty from you too and it doesn't matter, none of it does, because when you fly through that portal you'll be taking my heart with you and I wouldn't have it any other way, Tony, I wouldn't, I love you, I…if we had the time, I would've…I wanted…"

_Everything._

"Me too, Steve." Tony's voice was soft. "Me too."

"Iron Man—Tony." Natasha's voice came over the com. "You owe me a favor."

"Now? Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? Don't you think saving your ass from a nuke counts?"

"No." Natasha answered sharply. "You come back alive. That's my favor and I'm calling it in. You don't get to die on us, Stark."

"Widow, I—"

"Natalie. Well, Natasha."

"And I'm Clark-aka-Clint, you dumb fuck." Clint snapped, hurt and anger visceral in his voice.

"I'm dying here asshole, have a little respect."

"For a supervillain? Not a chance, dickwad."

"How about for a friend, fuckhead?"

"Yeah." Clint's response was unnaturally quiet. Then, with more rage than Steve had ever heard from him, "Tony Stark, you are an arrogant, stupid, stubborn son of a _bitch_ sometimes, you know that?"

"I—"

"But you're also my best friend, dipshit, and don't you fucking forget it."

"I won't, Cla—Clint. Natasha. Steve. I'm gonna miss you, all of yo—" Tony paused. "Fuck, your name_ is_ Steve, right?"

"Rogers, not Robinson, but. Still Steve." Steve laughed, but it was hollow.

"How many superheroes are there at that fucking school, anyway?"

"Not enough." Steve watched with horrible certainty as Tony approached the wormhole. "We need another, Tony, we need you. _I_ need you—"

"I'm sorry, St—"

The comm cut off.

Steve watched as Tony shot through the wormhole, and he stumbled forward as if he could follow. As if he could do anything at all. They waited in silence, the hope to see a flash of red and gold so heavy it was crushing.

One second.

Three.

Five.

"If we do not close the portal, Captain, the Chitauri will rain upon us." Thor clasped a hand to Steve's shoulder. "Do not let his sacrifice be in vain."

Seven.

Ten.

"Close it." The words stuck in his throat, vile and terrible, but Natasha didn't comment.

There was a flash of blue, then nothing; the bright beam of light disappeared, and the portal began to curl in upon itself. Amongst the blue Steve searched desperately, waiting for any sign of—

There.

A streak of red and gold like a shooting star, slipping through the edges of the portal at the last possible second. Steve took off immediately, racing towards where Tony was falling.

"Thor, get up there, now!" Steve commanded.

"Can he not fl—?"

"He's not slowing down, _go!"_

Thor began to twirl his hammer, but before he could take off the Hulk flew through the air, launching himself off a building to catch Tony and bring him to the ground. Steve was by the Hulk in seconds, and the moment the Hulk put Tony down Steve ripped off his faceplate.

His face was eerily calm.

His features were smoothed out, peaceful in a way Tony had only ever looked in his sleep. The blue light in the center of his chest was dull, and Steve ran a hand over it. Why wasn't it working? It was always lit up, always bright and humming and _on. _Steve moved his hands to Tony's face, stroked a thumb over the curve of his cheekbone, the rasp of his goatee.

"_Please_, Tony," he murmured.

The Hulk roared, thundering and guttural and right in Steve's ear, but he didn't care because at the sound of the roar Tony gave a full body flinch, his eyes blinking open in startled wonder, his light whirring back to life. Steve made a choked sound in the back of his throat, and Tony looked up at him with a weary laugh.

"What just happened? Please tell me you kissed me."

"We won." Steve clasped Tony's face tightly in both hands with a giddy smile. "And I am_ furious_ with you."

"Back atcha, winghead."

Steve kissed him hard, eager and more than a little desperate. He pulled away when he felt Tony wince, still sore, but Tony's hand just shot up to grab him around the neck and yank him back in. By the time they parted, the rest of the team had congregated.

"We're even." Natasha told Tony, something rare but genuine in her smile.

"We're not." Clint frowned. "You owe me like a year's worth of arrows for all this bullshit. At least."

"Sure." Tony let his head fall back with a happy sigh. "Sure. Good job, guys. Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just…take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it."

"You want shawarma, we'll get shawarma." Steve pulled Tony closer, pressed a kiss to his forehead. "After we arrest a supervillain."

"Oh my god." Tony's eyes flew open in shock. "Are you actually going to arrest m—"

"Loki."

"Oh. Right." Tony looked at Steve, then Thor, then back at Steve. "…and then shawarma after?"

* * *

Shawarma, apparently, was Avengers code for "screaming match".

Bruce ate his shawarma in silence, wondering if things were always like this between them. He and Thor exchanged glances every once in a while at certain things the others shouted, so at least he wasn't the only one totally lost, but for the most part he tucked in and tried not to be noticed. Natasha wasn't saying much either, though she watched the word volley carefully, occasionally interjecting.

"What part of _superhero _was so hard for you to tell me?!" Tony waved a hand wildly. "It's not like it's a fucking _bad _thing!"

"What part of _secret mission _can't you get through your thick skull?!" Clint shouted back.

"I know now, and the sky's not fucking falling down!"

"You were dying, assfuck!" Clint ran a hand through his hair aggressively. "And hell, they could still disappear me! That's fucking twice today I've teamed up with a_ supervillain!"_

"And if I hadn't almost died, then what?" Tony demanded of Clint. Then, thinking better, he rounded on Steve instead. "You would've just fucking _left?!"_

"We had _orders!" _Steve clenched his fists, but there was a desperate note in his voice that betrayed his guilty feelings on the subject. "You were just running around kidnappingme and blowing things up! You made the _choice _to lie to me, I never had that luxury!"

"_Luxury?! _You think I fucking _liked _lying to you, to _any _of you?! I fucking hated it! I hated it so much I was going to abandon everything, Steve, for _you—!"_

"You launched an attack on StarkIndustries just yesterday morning!" Clint shouted at Tony. "What part of that is _abandoning?"_

"It was the final step—!"

"Step of _what?" _Steve thundered, shooting up in his seat and slamming his palms down on the table hard enough that it rocked. "I have threatened and I have coerced and I have all but _begged_ you to tell me what this precious plan is that's so important it warrants abandoning the law, but Iron Man didn't owe Captain America anything and you never said a word but Tony, I'm asking you now as Steve, as someone you claim you _trust, _to tell me what the hell is going through your head!"

"I…" Tony paled at the demand. "But…"

Tony glanced around the table. They were alone in the room, the owners too far in the back to hear, the public still on lockdown, and Loki in SHIELD custody. There was no one there but the team, and Tony assessed them each in turn. His eyes lingered on Bruce and Thor, but he eventually found Steve's need to know more important than his own need for secrecy.

"Stane's the one who arranged my kidnapping." The words seemed to be sour in his mouth, and he gave a wry, bitter smirk. "First time I've said that. Out loud. Did I mention he took care of me, after my parents died? Second father figure, of sorts. Then I'm waking up in a cave with a fucking car battery in my chest and some guy whose family I blew up taking care of me and guns pointed at my head, and in between the waterboarding and the near-death by electrocution Yinsen asks me if I know an Obadiah Stane. And here's, here's the really great part, I thought he was there. Somehow. That he'd found me, you know? He was gonna cover my ass like he always did, but when I said yes, Yinsen said he'd overheard that was who paid for my hit."

Tony fell silent. Steve had fallen back into his seat, and he now reached out to take Tony's hand in his. Other than that, no one so much as breathed. Bruce felt like he was intruding, but from the looks on everyone's faces, he wasn't the only one.

"I wanted to destroy him. I didn't just want him dead, I wanted him _eviscerated. _I wanted to tear _my _company from his hands while he was still alive to see it, make him broke and desperate for my help, so I could kill him when he asked for it." Tony looked back up for the first time, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Then Pepper got me that stupid job. I hated it, hated that I couldn't find a good reason to say no, hated that I suddenly had to schedule my revenge around a 9 to 5, but. I met you guys, and I suddenly had _friends, _out of fuck-all nowhere. I still wanted revenge, but I wasn't so…consumed by it, anymore. And then there was _you, _and I just…god, it was like I didn't even care anymore, and that terrified me, but I didn't mind, because I could make that trade. Stane could live and I could have you and this weirdly normal life and I could…I could be okay with that. It was enough."

Silence stretched between them all. Tony's eyes didn't leave the table, and Steve's eyes didn't leave Tony.

"You have a car battery in your chest?" Clint asked at last, and Tony gave a startled bark of laughter.

"That _would _be your question. Yeah, I made some adjustments. It's an arc reactor now."

"That's…_in_ your chest?" Worry lines formed on Steve's forehead, and he leaned in Tony's direction like he wanted to touch the reactor but wasn't sure how he'd be received. "Col. Rhodes' isn't."

"Rhodey doesn't have shrapnel trying to inch its way towards his heart every minute of every day."

"God Almighty." Steve let out a shaky breath, clearly needing a moment to absorb, for more than just the information about the shrapnel.

"Stane will be arrested within the hour." Natasha snapped her phone shut, and all eyes turned to her.

"_What?!" _Tony was on his feet in an instant. "Natal—fuck, Natasha, whoever you are, what the hell do you mean? I had plans, I was going to—"

"I'm not letting you get arrested for murder." Natasha shrugged easily. "It's going to come out that you're Iron Man. If Stane is murdered after your little hack attack, it will be supremely obvious who did it. Wiping clean Iron Man's crimes, SHIELD can manage. A highly public murder everyone knows you committed, even we can't help you with. You'd be sent to prison, and if I let that happen not only would Pepper be furious with me, but Steve would mope for years. He's a national icon, it's unbecoming."

Steve looked mildly affronted at that, while Clint snickered and Tony just gaped. Bruce admired her efficiency, but wasn't particularly surprised; she'd been doing an awful lot of texting during Tony's speech for someone who seemed to care about him quite a bit.

"I—you—how—"

"You can thank me by letting me finish my meal in peace." Natasha swept a look over the three of them. "All of you. Steve, Tony did lie to you, but you lied to him too and he obviously intended to come clean eventually. Tony, Steve lied to you because he was under orders, not by choice, and you were never meant to get as involved as you did. Clint, you know just as well as I do how easy it is to get caught up in revenge, he's clean now, let it go."

"Bitches run the world." Clint grumbled.

"You're telling me." Tony gave an aggressive, displeased sigh.

Steve stayed suspiciously silent, which seemed to be the supersoldier equivalent of agreement. Natasha merely gave a quirked smile before returning to her food. After another moment the men seemed to decide hunger was more important than further bickering anyway, and picked up their meals again as well.

"I'm the fifth most intelligent person in the world," Bruce commented mildly after a moment's silence, "And I don't have a clue what just happened here."

"Nor I." Thor seemed grateful Bruce had spoken up before he'd had to.

"Me, Tasha, and Steve were undercover at Midtown High so Steve could get used to life in the 21st century." Clint explained, waving his shawarma to illustrate his points. "Me and Tasha were there first and we were friends with Tony, who we now know was Iron Man, but even though this asshole and I are best friends, he never told me. Then Steve came, and he and Tony started having a freakishly close not-quite-relationship in which they spent every spare moment texting and being together and doing literally _everything _but fucking—ha, butt fucking—and when they weren't busy being so nauseatingly in love even their brick-head students picked up on it, they were angsting about it to us for fucking months. Also, their secret identities had this weird flirtationship thing on the side that I can't decide is either really romantic or super creepy."

"…" Bruce glanced to Steve and Tony, expecting at least one of them to comment on how untrue that must have been. Both men continued eating their food in amiable silence, their hands now linked on the table. "That's. Um."

"Welcome to the Avengers, Dr. Banner." Natasha shot him a wry smile.

* * *

After sending Thor and Loki on their way, Nick told them he was letting them drop off the map, but none of them really took advantage of it. Clint's employment was under review and Steve was thoroughly reconsidering his, but they and Natasha still technically worked for SHIELD. Tony had a company to revamp and a tower to rebuild, and had convinced Bruce to stick around long enough to check out StarkIndustries' labs. Thor was in another realm, so SHIELD couldn't have really tracked him anyway.

The offer was a nice gesture, though.

With Stane under arrest StarkIndustries was indeed going to be Tony's again, and after hearing about the Avengers Initiative, Tony had grand plans for his renovations. The Avengers lived at SHIELD, on the road, in another realm, or, in a certain supersoldier's case, on Tony's couch. Not exactly great digs for a superhero team. The top ten floors of StarkTower had been weapons R&D, something no longer required; he could clear those out, remodel the floors, knock down some walls…

It was going to be a hell of a lot of work, but Tony had never been a man afraid to get his hands dirty. He had a company to officially reclaim, a tower to start redesigning, a business plan to introduce, a hysterical Pepper to reassure, and not to mention a fucking class to teach tomorrow on top of all that. But there was also Steve, and Steve came first.

"Hey." They were both still suited up, and looking at Steve now in all his star-spangled glory, it was hard to imagine Tony hadn't always known the man in front of him was a superhero. "Home?"

"Home," Steve agreed. Then, with a hint of a smile, "I could use a ride, though."

The ride back to the apartment did a lot to lift Steve's mood; he seemed to love flying, and Tony didn't blame him. They touched down on the fire escape, and Steve squeezed through the bedroom window while Tony disengaged, letting the suit return to its suitcase form. When Tony crawled through the window, Steve held out a hand to help him through.

Tony took it, and Steve pulled him not just through the window but into his arms. Tony almost tripped in surprise, but Steve's hands fell around his waist, holding him steady as he pulled him closer. He buried his face in Tony's neck, and Tony got the distinct impression Steve was listening to his pulse.

"Are you…?" Tony paused, unsure how to phrase it, and Steve sighed. His breath tickled the sensitive skin there, and Tony resisted a shudder.

"You did the right thing," Steve murmured, "I know that. I would've done the same, but it didn't make watching it any easier. I thought…there was a moment, when it looked closed, and you…it was so close, Tony. Then you didn't slow down, and when the Hulk caught you, you…you were so still, and I thought that you might be—I couldn't remember why I'd waited. Why I hadn't kissed you the day we met, or any day after, and I just…I've been a coward—"

"Hey, shh." Tony clasped a hand to the back of Steve's neck, pulled him closer. "That's not true."

"But it is. I don't know what I was going to do, Tony. When the assignment was over? I had no idea. And then in the restaurant, I pushed you to talk about Stane when I should've waited until we were alone, I _bullied _you into it, and I just, I keep messing this up, keep making all the wrong moves and I—"

"Steve, baby, relax." Tony pressed a kiss to his temple. "You're not messing anything up, alright? I love you, from the sound of it you still love me, we're both alive against all odds, it's good. We're good."

"Of course I still love you. Just…" Steve pulled far enough back to raise a hand to Tony's cheek, stroking a thumb over the stubble there. "No more lies, alright? From either of us. I trust you completely, Tony. I need you to trust me, too."

"I trust you more than anyone I've ever known."

Tony leaned up into another kiss, not letting the vulnerable truth of his words sit out in the open too long. The pleased smile Tony felt against his lips made it rather obvious the message had been received anyway. Steve soon had him crowded up against the back wall, putting his surprisingly talented mouth to good use on Tony's neck.

"Fucking hell, are you a vampire, how are you _doing _that—"

Steve pulled away immediately, red-faced with mortification. Tony was confused, until he realized Steve had somehow taken that as an insult. Oh, Tony was going to have so much fun with him.

"Did I do something wro—"

"Have you lost your mind?" Tony thread his fingers into the man's hair to encourage him, pull him back in. "My god, no. Just ignore everything I say when your mouth is on my skin except 'stop', which I can _promise _you is not going to come out of my mouth."

"Tony." Steve went a bit pink at that, and Tony just wanted to eat him up with a spoon. "I should…well. I ought to mention I haven't exactly, um, done anything. Like this. Before."

"You mean, more than this?" Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve ducked his head. Tony was going to take that as a no. "You haven't kissed anyone before?"

"Sort of? Not willingly."

The smile dropped right off Tony's face.

"What do you mean, not—"

"Oh, no, not nonconsensual, I didn't mind, I just—I've never had a kiss that was my choice, is all." Steve took Tony's face in both hands, rubbing a thumb just under his jaw. "Until you."

"I've never kissed someone out of love," Tony blurted. He wasn't sure what made him say it. Something about the vulnerable way Steve looked at him, with such pure intentions, such unadulterated love, it was like nothing Tony had ever experienced. It was dizzying, and it made Tony want to share in kind. "Until, uh. You."

"Guess we're figuring this out together, then." Steve smiled softly, pressing a gentle, unhurried kiss to Tony's lips. He trailed down, each kiss a little more daring, a little more adventurous.

"Have I mentioned—ah." Tony gave a hitched little noise as Steve's teeth skimmed over his skin. "That I'm renovating StarkTower?"

"Have I mentioned." Steve nipped at Tony's neck, alternating between speaking and pressing open-mouthed kisses there. "That I don't consider construction work particularly good pillow talk?"

"No, I mean, we—oh, Jesus—we could, there's a lot of space, and it's, the top floors were weapons development, which is obviously out now, and we could, you know, make it our own, if that was something you wanted."

Steve froze. Tony started talking faster.

"I mean, we already sort of live together, and it'd be best if I moved to the Tower anyway to help run SI and organize reconstruction and I just, I thought, I wanted you to come with me. If you wanted to, that is. I don't know what the 1940's schedule is for dating, but then, if we were still in the 1940's we'd be getting arrested right now, so I mean, you know, maybe we should try and stick to this century—"

Steve wrapped both arms as far around Tony's waist as he could, hugging him close and silencing him in the most effective way possible with a particularly enthusiastic kiss. When he pulled away, Steve's smile was wide, and bright as the sun.

"How about." Steve interspersed his words with kisses. "We make. Our own schedule?"

"And what's that schedule of ours say, hm?"

"Would you look at that, it says I'm moving into StarkTower with the man I love."

"I like your schedules, Robinson." Tony made to kiss him, and Steve hesitated.

"Rogers." Steve winced.

"What?"

"Rogers. My last name is Rogers." Steve corrected, looking apologetic.

"Rogers. Right." Tony made a face, trying to acclimate to that. "How much of what I know about you isn't true?"

"As little as possible." Steve assured him hastily, accompanying the statement with a long, drawn-out kiss. When they parted, it was only barely. Steve kept his arms looped around Tony's waist, his forehead against Tony's. "My last name is Rogers. I'm not Amish. I grew up in Brooklyn, not Utah. I was born in '18, not '87, but it was still on July 4th. I do actually have an art degree, but I'm relatively sure it expired a while ago."

"Oh god, I'm dating an old man." Tony wrinkled his nose. "Well, at least Rhodey can't complain I'm robbing the cradle anymore."

Steve pitched forward, catching Tony's lips with his. Steve's hands were warm on his skin, rucking up his shirt to skim a hand over Tony's hips, grabbing them to pull him forward. He wasn't a particularly experienced kisser, that much Tony could've figured out even without Steve telling him, but he kissed with such fervent enthusiasm it didn't matter. It was honest and adoring and indulgent, and for all his experience, Tony felt outclassed.

"Do I kiss like an old man?" Steve murmured against his lips.

Instead of giving an answer, Tony just hummed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck and pulled him in close. Steve ducked his head, returning to his work along Tony's neck. Tony tipped his head back to grant Steve access, and he felt his head hit the wall absently; Christ, was he using teeth again? God, that felt fan_tastic—_

"I'm not sure if you've realized, but there's a very comfortable bed about two feet to your right we might want to move to, because if you keep doing that thing with your teeth I'm not going to be able to hold myself upright much long—whoa!"

With seemingly no effort at all, Steve hoisted him up and carried him over to the bed.

"Huh." Tony blinked in surprise. "Superstrength. Right. I can totally work with that."

Steve laid him down on the bed with a sort of care Tony wasn't used to, and Tony was about to remind him that hey, not a woman here, but stopped himself when he saw the look in Steve's eyes.

"It has its pros and cons." Steve said quietly, concern and worry evident in his voice and the expression on his face. "If I…if I get excited, or carried away, and I hurt you somehow, you have to say something. I might not realize if I do, and…I just, I know you, Tony. You'll want to ignore it, but I need you to promise me you'll speak up."

It wasn't that Steve was treating him like a chick. He just _cared, _achingly so, in a way that made him careful. Tony managed to keep himself from blurting a wisecrack for once, putting his mouth to better use as he pulled Steve down on top of him, murmuring his answer between their lips.

"Promise."

How long they stayed occupied that way, Tony couldn't have said. He wasn't typically one to linger, to spend time on unrushed kisses and exploratory touches, but something about Steve made him want to. He wanted the sex too, of course he did, he was burning for it, but it was a slow burn. Steady. Steve wasn't a one-night stand that was going to get bored if he didn't pick up the pace, wasn't a reckless young thing with Daddy issues indistinguishable from any other. He was _Steve, _he was special and perfect and _staying, _and that made it different. Better.

There were unique problems with bedding a superhero though.

"Tony, what're you doing?" Steve broke the kiss with a laugh as Tony tried and failed for the fifth time to find a zipper on Steve's damn suit.

"Do I have to get scissors and cut you out of this thing, or what?" Tony frowned in answer, fiddling with a corner that looked like it might peel back. It didn't.

"It's difficult, here—"

"I am a _genius, _Steve, it should not be this hard to get you naked—"

"It's not _that_ hard, you just tug on this—"

"It's like I'm being cockblocked by an American flag—"

"Like being what?"

"Cockblocked. You know." Tony gestured in the general direction of Steve's cock. "Blocked. From cock."

"You are so strange." Steve smiled fondly.

"I didn't _invent _the ter…" Tony trailed off as Steve slipped out of his uniform, and his blood rushed south so fast his brain all but ceased to function. So, no underwear under the suit. That information was unquestionably going to cause problems in Tony's ability to function around a suited up Steve. "Um."

"Um?" Steve repeated, his face turning so red Tony was positive that if he stood there another moment he was going to explode. He shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable standing around naked. Tony was just going to have to help him get comfortable. Tony all but tore his shirt off, then shucked his pants and boxers in one swift motion, throwing all of the clothes gleefully on the floor and diving across the bed to throw an arm around Steve's waist.

"By 'um' I mean 'hello there gorgeous have I mentioned I love you let's have sex now'," Tony corrected, yanking him back into bed.

Steve laughed as they tumbled, and they wrestled briefly before he let Tony straddle him. Steve's eyes kept roaming downwards then snapping back up to Tony's face, like he wanted to look but wasn't sure if it was allowed. Steve started to do some anxious little motion with his hands, but Tony just linked their fingers together above the blond's head and set about trying to kiss him so thoroughly he couldn't remember his name, much less any silly, self-conscious nerves.

When he pulled away, Steve was sporting a hell of a blush.

"Um."

"Yeah." Tony grinned wolfishly. "Um."


	11. Chapter 11

They took a day off.

It was less of a premeditated decision and more of Tony refusing to release the arm around Steve's waist when he tried to get up. Tony's brain function didn't seem to be entirely online, but he didn't need full sentences to be convincing.

"Tony, we have work—"

"But, Steve." Tony's hand slipped lower.

"That's your ar-argument?" Steve stuttered a bit as Tony's hand wrapped around him, giving a lazy stroke.

"Mhm."

"…we did save the world yesterday," Steve admitted.

"Mhm." Tony kissed the back of his neck, lingering there, nuzzling him sleepily.

"We could—ah—" Steve stuttered as Tony twisted his wrist just so. "G-go in at lunch? Right?"

"Mhm." Tony's kisses moved up, and he pressed one just under Steve's ear, knowing full well it would make Steve shudder.

"Half a day." Steve was trying to be clear, assertive, but he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "Just half a day."

Tony didn't answer this time, just wriggled closer to rest his chin on Steve's shoulder as he continued his slow, easy strokes. The speed was torturous, but his hand was obscenely talented, and with a pull of his wrist here and a flick of his thumb there, Steve very rapidly lost the ability to speak in full sentences as well. When he'd finished, he lay on his back, and Tony swung a leg over him.

"See?" Tony kissed him with the same lazy indulgence, unhurried and thorough. "Never argue with a genius."

"Is this what happens when I do?" Steve smiled, amused. "I could stand a few more arguments."

"You're pretty sassy for a ninety—" Tony froze. "I said that to you before. When you…jeez, I stood you up for you."

"I was glad, actually." Steve admitted, catching Tony's hand in his, playing with his fingers. "A little worried that you seemed to dislike me so immediately, but. Captain America's an image that's a part of me, but it's still just an image. You're the first to choose the person over the image."

"I didn't like you because I _did _like you," Tony admitted. Steve raised an eyebrow in question, and Tony continued. "We'd been flirting for a while as Cap and Iron Man, and that was fine, that was harmless, you know? Nothing was going to happen; secret identities, opposite sides of the law, et cetera. Harmless. But I wanted to flirt with you as me, see if something _could _happen. Which, I mean, it wasn't _cheating _since we weren't together,but it wasn't good and I _knew _it wasn't, I could feel it, but I ignored it. Then you took my phone and deleted my messages and okay, I'm Tony Stark, I got them back, but—"

"You really were saving them." Steve smiled.

"Are. But. Not the point." There was a faintly pink hue to the tips of Tony's ears. Steve's smile widened, but he said nothing. "Point is, there was a second where I thought I'd really lost them, and I was upset. With you for deleting them, but mostly with myself, because why was I even bothering with anyone else when I had you?"

"Didn't have me at the time, to be fair to you."

"Semantics. You know…" Tony skimmed a hand up Steve's stomach and across his chest, his fingers tapping to some unknown beat. "A real date might be in order here. Make it up to you, and all."

"As long as it's not in the SHIELD cafeteria, you're on."

"I'm insulted you even think I would consider that an option for a first date."

"_Is_ it a first date?" Steve mused.

"I don't know. Does saving the world count as a date?"

"The way we do it…" Steve chuckled before correcting himself. "But I meant more along the lines that we've watched an awful lot of movies together."

"Full disclosure, literally none of the times I fell asleep on you were accidents."

"Full disclosure, I was well aware." Tony shot him a soft smile at that, and Steve realized absently there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for that smile. "God Almighty, we're idiots."

"If I argue, do I get a handjob?" Tony teased.

"Yes," Steve hummed innocently, "But if you agree, I'll blow you."

"We're total idiots."

"Love you." Steve pressed the words into Tony's skin as he rolled them over, sliding between Tony's legs and kissing his way downwards.

"Love you." Tony brushed a hand across his cheek before settling both in his hair, stroking it back. His grip tightened as Steve licked him the way Tony had shown him last night, and Tony dropped his head back with a groan. "I think the superserum enhanced your fucking tongue."

Steve just hummed, and the reverberation of his throat made Tony give a loud, appreciative moan.

"_Anthony Edward Stark you open this door or so help me god—!"_

"Christ!" Tony startled, shooting forward at the sound of his name and the loud pounding at his door, accidentally thrusting farther down Steve's throat than either of them expected. Steve choked and pulled back, coughing. "Oh god, I'm so sorry baby, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" Steve coughed again. "Just wasn't expecting that."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know you're in there, Tony, don't you try and hide from me!"

"Is that…Pepper?" Steve frowned in confusion.

"Unfortunately, yes." Tony made a face as he rolled off the bed and began searching for clothing. "Where the fuck did my boxers go?"

"To your left."

Tony wriggled into his boxers before leaving the bedroom and making for the door. Steve laid back in bed, listening to Tony fumble with the door handle, swear, then open it with a harsh, "For god's sake, what?"

"Don't you _what _me!" Steve winced; that was definitely a Pepper shriek. "You're a _supervillain _and you didn't _tell me?!"_

"Uhh…"

Oh boy. Steve threw off the covers and started scrambling for clothes. His suit was on the floor, and he quickly shoved it under the bed in case Pepper came inside before opening his drawer and pulling out some pants.

"How do you know this, anywa—?"

"That is _not _the question here, Tony! The question is what on _earth _were you _thinking?! _You could've gotten yourself _arrested _or _killed _or any _number _of things! And then you go and _fly a nuke into outer space?!"_

"Hey, that was to save New York—"

"I could _murder _you right now!"

Steve, not liking the sound of that in the slightest, managed to finally yank on his pants and stumble out of the bedroom.

"I'd really rather you didn't, ma'am." Steve cleared his throat, announcing himself.

"I—Steve?" Pepper blinked rapidly, but quickly regained her composure, turning to jab a finger in Tony's chest. "How _dare _you! Of all the things I've seen you do, of all the horrible, cold-hearted, selfish things you've ever done,_ this _is the lowest—"

"Miss Potts, I'm not sure I like where you're going with this." Steve crossed the room with a frown.

"Don't you defend him, Steve." Pepper gave him a look with far too much sympathy for Steve's comfort. "Not right now. Tony, we need to talk in private—"

Pepper kept shooting him glances, and Steve was about to speak up and ask what all the hedged looks were for when Tony did it for him.

"I don't have anything to hide, Pepper." Tony glanced back at Steve. "I told him everything."

"Really." Pepper pursed her lips in disbelief. "_All _of it?"

"Yes." Tony frowned. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"And he's alright with you making out with other people in public?"

"What?" Tony and Steve responded as one.

"It's all over the internet, Tony!" Pepper waved her hands. "Everyone and their mother's seen the picture of you kissing Captain America!"

"That's…on the internet?" Steve gulped. So that's how she knew Tony was Iron Man.

"You really _are _okay with this?" Pepper shrieked, "Oh my god!"

"Uh, one minute." Tony put a hand on the door.

"Don't you _dare—"_

Tony unwisely shut the door in Pepper's face. While she continued shouting incoherently on the other side, Tony hastily turned to Steve.

"Quick, help me lie before she rips my balls off for cheating on you."

"I gave you a freebie because Captain America is your childhood hero?"

"Brilliant." Tony threw open the door with a plastered on smile. "Pepper! Darling! Light of my life!"

"Tony, I _swear_—"

"He gave me a freebie for my childhood hero, but look, let's not talk about these things now." Tony patted Pepper's arm. "Let's talk about that photo you mentioned! How viral are we talking here? You're lovely and brilliant, can't you get it retracted?"

"Not even in your _dreams_!" Pepper smacked his hand away. "Tony, it's a supervillain and a superhero _kissing, _it's _everywhere! _There's a hundred reporters downstairs alone!"

"Reporters?" Steve frowned. "Why?"

"Because Tony's an ex-billionaire celebrity turned _supervillain _who saved the world from _space aliens _then made out with _Captain America!" _Pepper shrieked. "I'm not sure there's ever _been _bigger news! If you really are taking StarkIndustries back, you needed to get out there and make a statement _yesterday!"_

"But." Tony glanced back at Steve petulantly. "Sex."

"Tony," Steve and Pepper groaned as one, though Steve's was a bit more embarrassed where Pepper's was painfully exasperated.

"Alright, alright." Tony turned to Pepper with a wince. "Are you still willing to come back with me?"

"I stop being your PA for a few months and you became a _supervillain, _you better believe I'm coming back!"

"I was just _asking—"_

"Are you even aware that there's a police perimeter around the building as we speak? That I've had to call in Happy and the boys so they can section off your floor and let the police leave so people can get in and out of the building without being tackled? I've been up less than half an hour, Tony, _half an hour, _and without me you'd have the police—or worse, reporters—banging down your front door!"

"Yes, because _you_ banging down my door, shrieking my full name like my goddamn mother while I'm in the middle of an extremely hot wake up call is _so much better—"_

"He means to say thank you, we both do." Steve intervened with a hint of blush. The idea of being barged in on while naked in bed by a hundred strangers was far more terrifying than fighting space aliens.

Pepper just sighed, rubbing her forehead. The anger seemed to have drained away in a rush, leaving her with nothing but disappointment and exhaustion.

"Tony, how could you not have told me?"

"I didn't want to worry you." Tony sighed as well, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry. Look, come in, I'll tell you the story, and we can kick out a statement, alright?"

"I'll get you both coffee." Steve decided, figuring it was about the best he could contribute at the moment. He knew next to nothing about things like handling the press and giving statements.

Pepper sat on the couch, sinking into it and pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

"God I need an Advil."

"I think there's some in the bathroom cabinet. Tony, would you—?"

"On it." Tony nodded, heading back into the bedroom. "I'll need a little more than boxers for the conference anyway."

As soon as the door to the bedroom clicked shut, Pepper raised her head.

"Did he tell you?"

"No," Steve admitted, "It was a, uh. Quite a surprise."

"And you're just alright with…this?" Pepper waved a hand vaguely. "The supervillainy?"

"Well, he's not a supervillain anymore," Steve pointed out. He paused, leaning against the counter and giving the question honest thought. "Alright is the wrong term. I don't like what he did, and I don't agree with his reasons, but I understand them. I also think he's a different person than he was when he started down this path, and sometimes it's hard to get off without a push."

"You think he's done?" Pepper looked conflicted. "For good?"

"Being Iron Man?" Steve gave a soft snort. He thought of how deeply Tony loved his suit, how much time and effort he put into perfecting it, how exhilarated it made him feel. "No. And I wouldn't want him to be. But I do think he's done being a villain, if that's what you mean."

"How can we know?" Pepper dropped her head into her hands again. "He's only played the hero once. He himself would call it an outlier in an otherwise awful pattern of behavior."

"I trust him." Steve gave a half-shrug, turning back to the coffee machine. JARVIS had already prepared it, all he had to do was pour. "Don't you?"

"I thought I did." Pepper shook her head. "I also thought he wasn't a supervillain."

"He's never hurt anyone, Pepper," Steve told her honestly, "I mean, he hurt companies, but physically—he's never caused a casualty, or even an injury. He'll explain it better than I can, but the gist of what he told me is that it was industrial espionage—"

"Which is entirely illegal—"

"Well, yes," Steve admitted, handing her a cup before heading back into the kitchen to pour Tony's, "But he wasn't doing it for personal gain. He sought out rotten companies and tried to set them right. He just kept the public—and law enforcement—out of the loop. What he did was wrong, but it isn't quite as awful as it seems."

"But he targeted…" Pepper trailed off with a frown. "StarkIndustries does bad business?"

"Did," Tony corrected as he exited the bedroom.

Tony looked…absolutely stunning. He was handsome to begin with of course, but he was now dressed to the nines in a perfectly pressed, dark charcoal suit accentuated with a crimson tie. The suit was tailored to fit his lithe, muscled build, highlighting the juts of his shoulders and the lean curve of his back. He looked at ease in the suit, comfortable as a second skin, every inch the charming, powerful businessman he'd once been.

It occurred to Steve he'd never seen Tony like this before.

Tony caught Steve's eye with a smile, and in spite of all they'd been through, in spite of the hours they'd just spent in bed together, Steve's body seemed like it was on fire. His palms were clammy, and he swallowed dryly. He felt for all the world like a scrawny little nobody again, just happy the popular kid had deigned to glance in his direction.

Then Tony was behind him, an arm around his waist as he pressed a kiss to the back of Steve's neck.

"Thanks babe." Tony reached his other arm around to snag the cup Steve had poured for him. "And he's right, Pep, I was very careful not to actually hurt anyone."

"But StarkIndustries is dirty?" Pepper seemed focused on this.

"Was. It's part of…well, it's a long story." Tony rubbed hand to his forehead. "Hold on, I need the rest of this pitcher in me before I talk about this again."

Tony drained the rest of his mug, and Steve gave in to pouring him one more before ushering him over to the couch—"Two's enough for now, Tony, you can have more after you eat some real food"—then let him explain the story to Pepper while he made them all some breakfast. He listened absently, but none of it was anything he hadn't heard before. Tony couldn't tell Pepper about the Avengers secret identities, but he told her the rest.

He told her how Obadiah Stane had organized the kidnapping. How he'd gone to extreme lengths to seek revenge as thoroughly as he could. How he'd eventually lost sight of that goal as he started to heal, through her, through "Clark" and "Natalie", and eventually through Steve. How he'd been drifting closer and closer to the right side over time, and the alien invasion was just the push he'd needed. By the time Steve finished their eggs and bacon and was flipping the last of the pancakes, Tony was finishing up.

"And I thought if I flew that nuke into space…it'd sort of make up for everything, you know? I could go out clean. Even."

"You don't have to die to wipe the slate clean, Tony." Pepper sighed. "But I'll admit it's probably easier than the road ahead."

"Well, it actually shouldn't be that hard," Steve spoke up without thinking, "SHIELD knows that his actions, though legally a pretty dark gray area, were done with relatively good intentions, against only dirty businesses and with no casualties. They dropped all charges on the condition he join the Avengers. That'll all be released to the public, and after a few missions with Tony on our side, public opinion should swing his way pretty fast. They seem rather fickle to begin with if you ask me."

"How do you know all that?" Pepper frowned, while Tony hid a wince. Steve could've smacked himself.

"Uh, Tony told me." Steve turned around with a broad smile, plates in hand. "Who wants breakfast?"

* * *

"I am Iron Man."

The reporters went wild at that, a thousand questions at once. Steve resisted the urge to cover his ears. They were standing on the steps of the apartment building; there was no point in trying to get the conference held anywhere else. There was a dense thicket of reporters blocking their only exit from the building, and the sooner Tony talked to them, the sooner they went away.

Happy, Tony's old friend and newly reinstated head of security, along with three other burly men, were keeping the reporters behind the perimeter. Steve appreciated this, but hovered within reach of Tony anyway. He was anxious, the slapdash nature of the conference making him feel ill at ease. Pepper stood just behind Steve, watching Tony like a hawk to make sure he used the notecards she'd given him—he apparently had a habit of ignoring them entirely.

"Look, I've got a whole speech here—" Pepper made an exasperated noise as right on cue Tony put aside the cards. Steve found himself unsurprised. "—but that's what you came for, right? I'm Iron Man. I had a rough start, but SHIELD and I have come to an agreement, and I'm playing for the right team now."

"There's about fourteen pictures that say you're playing for another team entirely, do you have any comment on that?" One of the male reporters shoved their mic closer, and Tony snorted.

"Was that a gay joke, Daniels? I'm disappointed in you. I'm a supervillain turned superhero after saving the world from an alien attack and you want to pry into my love life?"

"So you are in love with him then?" A female reporter demanded.

"I'm sorry, is there a person here who _wouldn't _kiss Captain America?" Tony smoothly dodged the question. "The guy's gorgeous."

"Is that you officially saying you're gay?"

"You'd like an official statement?" Tony seemed amused now. "My name is Tony Stark, I'm a part-time superhero, part-time once-again CEO of StarkIndustries, and I like women, men, and long walks on the beach. Would you like my blood type too, or can we move on to the real questions?"

There was a clamor for a while, and Tony answered the questions as they came. The topic of his sexuality faded to the background as they questioned him about working with SHIELD, about his switching sides, as well as about Stane's arrest and Tony's reinstatement as CEO of StarkIndustries. Steve was surprised but pleased to learn Tony would finish out the school year at Midtown High; it was only a few more months, and as long as he was careful in scheduling himself there was no reason he couldn't handle it.

Steve was glad. Tony's students really did adore him, and Tony had a soft spot for them a mile wide, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Plus, it'd be nice to see Tony during the day, since StarkIndustries reconstruction and the organization of their new direction—green energy, as Tony was announcing now—was going to drain Tony's free time dry. He was happy for Tony, not to mention exceedingly proud, but he was well aware there weren't going to be a whole lot of lazy movie nights for a while.

The conference was actually going incredibly well, all things considered, until Tony waved a hand at a blonde down in front.

"Oh, please, make my year, what do you have to say about all this?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. She seemed to want to pin Tony with a glare, but settled for a sharp question.

"Do you even know Captain America's real name?" She gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Or does that not matter to you in this little experiment of yours?"

Pepper made an exasperated noise of dislike, and Steve found himself agreeing whole-heartedly. He leaned back just a bit to whisper to her.

"Who's she?"

"Christine Everhart, a Vanity Fair reporter. Tony's not supposed to call on her, but of course he never listens. She's had it out for him since…well, years. They slept together once, and she didn't appreciate the morning after treatment."

"Ah."

"I do, actually." Tony was smiling, but it was sharp, challenging. "Not that it's any of your concern. And there's no 'experimenting', I'm well aware of my sexuality. If you're finished collecting gossip, I'm sure the real reporters have some actual questions—"

"Here's a question," Christine interrupted, "If you do in fact know him and this isn't just an experiment, does that mean you're in a relationship with him?"

"That's—"

"Let me guess." Her self-satisfied smirk had reappeared, much to Steve's displeasure. "Confidential?"

"Obviously," Tony answered stiffly, "Now—"

"Funny, because it just sounds to me like you haven't changed a bit. Same old dog up to the same old tricks with some shiny new toys, right?"

"That's enough." Steve stepped forward, glaring her down. "Miss, if you're going to continue harassing him I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"And who are you, hm?" Christine narrowed her eyes at him, sizing him up.

Everyone was looking at him with some level of interest now, and Steve realized he probably should've thought twice before opening his fat mouth. Tony, thankfully, didn't miss a beat.

"New security." He turned to lay a hand on Steve's forearm, make him step back. "Overprotective, they always are at first."

"I just—"

"Robinson, the_ point_ of a conference is for them to harass me, remember?" Tony smiled, but it was empty, meant for the cameras. "It's fine, I can handle Teen Gossip Weekly down there."

"Vanity Fair." She gave him an icy smile. "You're very…familiar, with your bodyguards."

"Oh, that's nice." Tony snorted. "I'm bisexual so now I'm fucking everyone with a pulse?"

"I think Mr. Robinson is right, that's plenty for one conference." Pepper quickly intervened, snapping her fingers at Happy.

The reporters surged forward, each calling for "one last question", but Happy and the other bodyguards kept the perimeter. Steve ushered Tony and Pepper inside, playing the role of bodyguard until they were past the lobby and the elevator doors had shut. He pulled Tony into a kiss, careful to keep it chaste while Pepper was still with them, but was unable to resist while that Christine Everhart's comments still rung in his head.

"First experience is always the worst." Tony squeezed his hand when they parted. "Sorry I couldn't defend you better."

"Defend _me?" _Steve meant to add, 'what on earth from?', but Pepper spoke up.

"If he'd announced you were dating then, they would've unquestionably turned it into a 'Tony Stark, back his old cheating ways' scandal, even if you did give him a free one for this Captain America fellow." Pepper didn't look up from her StarkPhone, where she was taking rigorous notes. The disapproval of the idea of a freebie was clear in her voice, and Steve couldn't help find it just the littlest bit amusing. "The last thing we need right now is a Stark scandal."

"Relax, Pep, I'm a changed man, you know better than anyone. Also, for the record?" Tony looked at Steve. "Never cheated. On anyone. Ever."

"It's true." Pepper agreed. "I would know."

"I…" Steve blinked, surprised they even felt the need to make this point. "I didn't…I wouldn't think you would, Tony. I only meant I wish I could've defended _you _better, that woman was awful to you."

"Oh, they're always like that. If it's not her, it's someone else." Tony shrugged, unconcerned.

"This is common, then." Steve frowned. "How often do you have to do these things?"

"Couple times a month." Tony winced at the look on his face. "You're not liking that, are you? If it makes you feel any better, for the formal press conferences we can pick and choose who we want. Helps keep the gossip whores at bay, at least somewhat."

"Why are they so interested in you to begin with?" Steve made a face.

"I don't know, why are you?" Tony teased. "I'm just that amazing, obviously."

"_I _know that, because I know you." Steve's expression fell somewhere between perplexed and annoyed. "They don't, and clearly have no desire to. Aside from prying up your dirty little secrets so they can spread them around."

"You." Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Are not a dirty little secret."

"I'm not saying that, I'm just concerned—"

"The first time Tony was on camera, he was four years old." Pepper informed him. "He can handle this, Steve. Trust him. Better yet, trust me; I've been managing his antics for more than a decade. I handled him when he was young and slutty and so wild it was borderline suicidal. Now he's old and committed and so responsible it would make his younger self sick. This is going to be a walk in the park compared to 1999."

"We agreed never to talk about 1999 again." Tony groaned. "Did that year even happen? I'm drawing a blank."

"That entire decade is a blank to you." Pepper snorted. The elevator opened with a ding, and she ushered them out. "Go. I have to go back down to speak with the security team. If you really are finishing out the school year, you're going to have to wait at least another day or two to let the media frenzy die down, then we'll have to coordinate police support outside the school. I'll give you a call when everything's taken care of."

"Have I mentioned lately you're the most terrifyingly efficient person I've ever met?" Tony grinned.

"Every day." Pepper smiled, tired but honest with just a hint of amusement. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That'll be all, Miss Potts." Tony winked, and the elevator doors shut. He turned to Steve with a wicked smile that inspired a plethora of less than pure thoughts. "Sounds like we just got another day off."

"You have another day off." Steve corrected. "I have work tomorrow."

"See, you mistakenly assume that I'll be letting you out of bed."

"You forget that I have superstrength."

"You forget that I have superhands." Tony wiggled his fingers suggestively, a wicked, beautiful smile playing across his lips that hit Steve's system like a drug.

Suddenly impatient, Steve took eager hold of Tony with one hand, opening the door to the apartment with the other. He pulled him through and pushed him up against the door the moment it closed, kissing him hungrily, parting only briefly to pant his answer with a wicked smile of his own.

"So remind me."

* * *

"Identification."

It was four days after the New York attack, three days since Tony's press conference. Though they'd squeezed in as much alone time as they could, they hadn't had quite the vacation either of them had envisioned. Tony was always stuck on the phone with one rigid executive or another, and if he wasn't trying to convince them that they really could pull this off and to just sit tight through the stock upheaval, it was videoconferences with division heads or production managers or PR liaisons, or god forbid all three. He was working almost around the clock on StarkIndustries new direction, which left him no time to supervise the reconstruction of StarkTower—a project he'd passed on to Steve.

Not the whole thing, of course, he could pay people for things like that, and that was far too much work to unload on Steve's shoulders; what he'd entrusted Steve with was the Avengers' suites. There was an entire upper section was designated as the Avengers' space, and though Tony provided suggestions and tips, he'd pretty much let Steve run free with it, particularly their space.

If Tony was being honest with himself, a large part of it was selfishness. If Steve didn't have anything to occupy himself with while Tony ran a company out of their apartment, he'd go in to work instead. That meant he wouldn't be there for Tony's rare breaks, and what was the point of a break if he didn't have Steve to make it interesting? He did trust Steve to do the space justice though, and was glad to have one thing off his extremely full plate.

Steve hadn't quite finished, and it would be months before Tony's life relaxed into anything resembling normal again, but Pepper had given them the a-okay to return to work anyway. In spite of his grumbling, Tony was sort of looking forward to it; he'd missed his brats more than he'd expected. They were making their way through the police perimeter now, Tony's face enough proof of identification for them.

Happy, however, felt like being a dick to Steve, and he was tapping Steve's chest like he should have an id badge pinned to him at all times or something. Steve, bless his heart, was fumbling with his wallet, already apologizing.

"Oh my god, Happy, he's fine." Tony rolled his eyes, grabbing Steve's wallet and stuffing it back in his pocket. "Seriously, let us through."

"I need to check his credentials." Happy jutted his chin out in a way Tony was quite sure he thought was intimidating.

"Happy, I had my tongue down his throat five minutes ago, consider him very _thoroughly _checked." Tony tucked his arm into Steve's and pushed past Happy. "We're late enough as is."

"And who's fault is _that, _exactly?" Steve raised an eyebrow at him in amusement, his cheeks only faintly pink at the tongue-in-throat comment. Good, Tony was training him well.

"Sorry, not sorry." Tony waved a hand, and Steve dropped it in favor of picking up their previous topic of conversation right where they'd left off in the parking lot.

"What if we went on together, at first, you could supervise—"

"Steve, _no."_

"Why not? You said they loved us."

"Steve, tumblr will chew you up and spit you out, and frankly, I'm partial to you the way you are."

"I don't understand—"

"And that is exactly the problem."

"But I want to see what they're saying. It's about me, about us, I think I have the right to know."

"The right to know, yes. The stomach for it, no."

"It's hateful?" Steve frowned, adorably concerned.

"Oh, god, no." Tony laughed. "Total opposite."

"Can I at least see the pictures?"

"I showed you the pictures—"

"No, you showed me the official pictures. I want to see the ones you and Pepper were giggling over last night. They didn't look real—"

"They're called fanart," Tony admitted, then, with a scowl, "And I did not _giggle_—_"_

"You did."

"Insulting me isn't helping your case."

"Clint'll show me."

"And I'll string him up with his own bowstring."

"I don't understand why you're hiding this—"

"Not _hiding," _Tony clarified quickly, "I promise. It's just, Steve, you don't understand. These people have been obsessively envisioning us in a relationship since the first time I kidnapped you, and it _actually came true. _This sort of thing doesn't happen to them very often, alright? Hell, we broke their website, it only came back online yesterday, and that's because I donated a large amount of money to increase their bandwidth. You do _not _want to venture in there right now. Trust me, okay?"

"I suppose." Steve sighed, opening the door to the classroom, holding it for Tony.

"Thank y—"

Tony was interrupted by a large barrage of water balloons.

"Oh shit, it's Stark!"

The thrower of the first balloon—Downey, of course, because when the fuck wasn't that kid a pain in his ass—waved his hands for a ceasefire. Tony stood there a moment, sopping wet, trying to remember that murder was illegal.

"If you're curious about my newest supervillain origin?" Tony hissed to Steve, pointing a finger at Downey, who still had a whole bucket of water balloons at his feet, "It's that asshole right there."

"We thought you'd be the sub!" Chris Hemsworth, Tony's Australian transfer, put his hands in the air innocently.

"And you pelt all your subs with water balloons?" Steve asked, disapproval clear.

"It was Robert's idea!" A student pointed at Robert guiltily.

"Yeah, he bought all the balloons and everything!" Another agreed.

"And I'm sure he held you all at gunpoint to fill them up?" Tony scowled at his class. They fidgeted, various 'no's and 'I guess not's answering him after a moment.

"I only came up with it because the news said you probably weren't coming back!" Downey protested, "And that wasn't fair! You promised we were stuck with you, you can't just go running off on us just cause you're some bigshot superhero now!"

"I—I didn't _run off, _I saved your sorry asses from a bomb, I think I get a couple days off! And what good would attacking your sub do if I had?"

"Fluffalo said causing shit would make you come back!" Downey insisted. "And look, he was right!"

"Throw me under the bus, why don't you?" Mark shot Robert a look. Then, when Steve turned his stern gaze on him, he shuffled his feet a bit. "It's just, if we cause trouble for a sub it gets reported back to the teacher. I thought it might make it more likely that you'd. You know. Come back. Even if it's just to read us the riot act."

Tony stared at the little bastards in silence.

"Fuck it, I'm taking another day off." He turned to leave.

"Tony." Steve rolled his eyes, planting a hand on Tony's chest to stop him in place. "They just missed you."

"They _attacked me—"_

"Because they missed you."

"We missed you, too." Robert piped up to Steve. "Class isn't half as fun when Stark's not showing off for someone."

"Well, since you missed him just as much…" Tony walked over to where Robert was and reached into the bucket at his feet. "I think he deserves the same warm welcome, don't you?"

"Tony, I swear, if you—" Steve's threat was cut off by a water balloon to the face. "Ohhh, you're going to regret that."

"You gonna make me?" Tony wagged his eyebrows daringly.

"Your kids versus mine. After school. The quad." Steve challenged with a grin, brushing back his wet hair to get it out of his eyes.

"You're on." Tony extended a hand to seal the deal. Steve clasped it and shook, and Tony only narrowly resisted the urge to pull Steve forward and seal it another way; he could tell Steve was thinking the same. Tony gave a devious smirk. "Oh, what's that, Steve? You don't have any water balloons and I'm not sharing? Shame."

"Oh, what's that, JARVIS?" Steve pulled out his phone, waving it with a smirk. "You have Tony's credit card on file and I have all first period free to go buy water balloons while Tony has to teach? Shame."

"You're evil, Robinson." Even as he said it, Tony couldn't help the grin that threatened to split his face in half. "Pure evil."

"Baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet," Steve quoted, shooting Tony one last smile before ducking out the door.

"Dude, you were right." One of his students turned to another. "They _could _get more obvious."

"Obvious about what?" Tony raised an eyebrow at the student in question.

"Did I say something?" They blinked back at him innocently. "Nothing, I said nothing."

"Okay, whatever, I don't care—new plan, we'll do science tomorrow. Today, we prepare for war."

"This place is so much better than my last school." Chris enthused.

"First thing's first: Downey, you're eighteen and have loose morals, come here."

"Was that a come on?"

"I'm going to do us both a favor and forget you ever asked that." Tony pulled out his wallet. "You have a car?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Here's a couple hundred bucks. Sign yourself out, hit the nearest Target, get every bag of water balloons and all the supersoakers you can find."

"Did you just encourage me to skip school?"

"What are you talking about?" Tony quirked his head, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. "Downey? Robert Downey? I haven't seen him all day, what do you mean he skipped school?"

"Right." Downey grinned, accepting the money.

"Go on." Tony shooed him out. "Steve drives like 10 miles an hour, if you go now you can get there before he does and buy them out. Meet us out back on the basketball courts; there's a hose we can use to fill up, and some willing troops we can recruit."

* * *

"Coach Barden?"

"What?" Clint was busy fiddling with his whistle; that bastard Stark had filled it with glue again.

"Are we doing a co-op class today?" the student asked.

"No. Why?"

"There's a lot of kids out here. And they're not in uniform, either."

"What?" Clint looked up, squinting at the group of thirty-something kids over by the side of the building. "Huh. Those aren't mine."

He picked up his whistle to blow it and get their attention, catching himself only at the very last minute. Right. Glue. He got up instead, hopping down off the bleachers and maneuvering through his basketball-playing students to question the group by the wall. They weren't even in P.E. clothes, what did they think they—

Oh. Great.

Tony.

"The hell are you and your tribe of disasters doing out here?"

The kids looked up, but Tony just waved his hands for them to get back to work. They listened to him, laughing and chattering excitedly as they did. They passed water balloons and water soakers around, filling them up and dumping them in buckets and coolers of ice water some of the brawnier boys had hauled onto the court.

"War is afoot, Barden," Tony told him cryptically. Well, at least he remembered to use the undercover name. "You in or out?"

"What kind of war are we talking about here?" Clint eyed him. "Because if you're saying there's another invasion, I don't think teenagers with supersoakers are gonna cut it."

"A water war." Tony corrected. "In the quad after school, my kids versus Steve's."

"Don't tell me you were gonna wage war without me?" Clint punched him in the shoulder, and Tony grinned.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Got enough supplies for another thirty troops?"

"Downey bought out a Target earlier, and I'll hit up another one for more supplies during my off period."

"Get the glue out of my whistle, and I'll round mine up." Clint dropped his whistle into Tony's hand.

"I knew you were my favorite." Tony slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Steve's your favorite." Clint rolled his eyes.

"Very true." Tony nodded, dropping his voice with a smirk. "But you're my favorite person who doesn't give me morning blowies."

"Aw, gross." Clint shoved him off. "Don't tell me about your fucking sex life, that's Captain America, man—"

"Believe me, I know." Tony wagged his eyebrows, and Clint put a hand over Tony's mouth to stop any further exposition. Tony just licked him with an even wider grin. "Even his tongue is enhanced."

"I fucking hate you."

"Lies, I'm totally your favorite." Tony snorted, beginning to pull the dried glue out.

"People who put glue in my things aren't my favorite."

"Oh come on, you booby-trapped my pens to explode."

"You changed my cell phone settings to Mandarin!"

"You wrapped my entire classroom in tin foil!"

"You put kool-aid mix on all the showerheads!"

"Admit it, that one was fucking hysterical." Tony accused, and Clint carefully kept back his grin.

"My footballers were purple for days."

"Hysterical."

"We had a _game."_

"_Hysterical."_

"Maybe I should offer my troops to Steve instead," Clint threatened.

"One glue-free whistle coming up," Tony offered cheerfully.

* * *

The war was epic.

Tony recruited Clint's kids and Steve recruited Natasha's, and by the end of it more than half the school was involved in what had become a free-for-all. By the time the balloons were gone and the soakers were emptied, everyone on campus was happily drenched. It was technically speaking declared a draw, but considering Steve emptied a cooler of ice water over Tony's head less than three seconds previous, general consensus felt that Steve's side had won. Tony vehemently denied this. Steve let him.

"F-f-fuck y-you, R-r-rogers." Tony's teeth chattered. Steve slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around Tony's shoulders.

"Robinson," Steve reminded, since they were still on campus, but he pulled him close and rubbed Tony's arms to help warm him up.

"You l-literally just dumped ice w-water on m-me, now you're w-warming m-me up." Tony grinned. "You're something else, _R-robinson."_

"Same to you, Stark." The urge to kiss Tony was incredibly strong.

"D-dare you." Tony wagged his eyebrows, reading Steve's mind all too well.

"We're at school."

"Gotta feed those rumor mills or they're g-gonna get bored of us."

"I think kissing you in the middle of the quad is less 'rumor' and more 'evidence'."

"Something to hide?" Tony raised an eyebrow, an honest question.

"Not a thing." Steve closed the space between them.

There was an immediate shriek, followed by an awful lot of swearing.

"Whoa, shit!"

"Holy hell, are they kissing?"

"Dude, check it out!"

"I fucking _told _you—"

"God damn it, I bet next week—"

"I totally knew it—"

"You didn't fucking know shit—"

"How do you know it didn't just happen—"

"Man, I fucking love this school—"

"Maybe we should go home now." Steve was pretty sure his face was actively on fire.

"Yeah." Tony laced their fingers together, pulling Steve away from the crowd of rowdy teenagers and out towards the parking lot.

"Hey, Stark, when did—" Downey tried to pester him, but Tony just pushed him away by the face.

"It's after 3pm, man-child, I don't know you, you do not exist."

"Tony." Steve shot him a look one part exasperated, three parts fond.

"Would you like to stay and talk to him, or would you maybe, _um." _Tony shot Steve a very meaningful look and a very suggestive smirk. "Like to go home?"

"Um." Steve smiled back. "Home."


	12. Epilogue

It was the stupidest thing that broke his cover.

They hadn't planned on revealing Steve's identity. Tony had gotten flak for kissing Cap during the invasion and "getting together" with Steve only a few days later, but they figured it would die down. Steve even went on camera at one point to clarify that he had not been kept in the dark and knew full well what he was getting into, thank you very much, but it was one of Steve's students, Scarlet, who actually put the matter to rest.

"They're saying your teacher is Mr. Stark's second choice because he can't have Captain America. What are your thoughts on this?"

"Uh, that it's stupid?" She had answered the intrusive reporter as if it were obvious. "Seriously, watch the way they look at each other for like, five seconds. If anything, I feel bad for Captain America. He never stood a chance. To Prof Stark, not even Captain America compares to Mr. Robinson."

The reporters stopped trying to play Captain America up as some kind of problem in their relationship after that, and life fell into a familiar, if hectic, pattern. They spent their days teaching classes and their afternoons at StarkTower, Tony in meetings or working in his office, Steve organizing and assisting with construction. They often didn't make it home until late and had to get up early the next morning, but they did have their shared classes and other assorted free moments throughout the day, and though they were incredibly busy and often exhausted, they were happy.

By the end of the school year, StarkIndustries was finally becoming stable again, and all the Avengers but Thor, who was still in Asgard, had moved into the top floors of StarkTower. Tony—more accurately, his lawyers—had drawn up a contract, and gone through the back and forth required until they'd come to agreement on the status of the Avengers.

As a team, they were not owned by SHIELD. They were an independent initiative, based in StarkTower—or, as they'd taken to calling the top floors, Avengers Tower—that worked with but did not report to SHIELD. Clint and Natasha did remain officially employed by SHIELD on an indefinite basis, and Tony owed them three years of work, consulting or hero-wise as needed, but Steve, Bruce and Thor had no official obligations.

They all knew they'd still be answering to Nick Fury, but it was nice to know they weren't legally bound.

Graduation day, considering the staff had two undercover superspies, one undercover superhero, and one celebrity, went about as well as could be expected; which is to say, not well.

Problem number one was normal, at least. The kids were rowdy and anxious, too excited about graduating to sit still. It took the staff almost four hours just to get the kids through rehearsal, by which time Steve counted Tony's 'I will suit up and repulsor your ass if you don't stop fucking around' threats to be somewhere in the twenties. Clint threatened to off himself twice as many times, but Steve decided that was Natasha's problem.

They had a short break between the final rehearsal and the actual event, during which Steve and Tony both agreed to turn their phones off for once while they went out for lunch downtown. It was the first free, calm hour they'd had in months, and it was exactly what they needed. They ate at a little diner Steve liked, and he told Tony about how he used to come by to draw StarkTower, back when he'd first woken up. The first time he'd ever seen Iron Man had been at that diner, when Tony had looped under a nearby archway, shooting past him and off into the sky like a brilliant, beautiful comet.

Steve admitted he'd been more than mildly fascinated with sketching the suit ever since, and had been incredibly disappointed when SHIELD said he was supposed to be arresting Iron Man instead of working with him. He'd seen the suit up close and personal now, particularly when he'd helped Tony move all his workshop gear from his "Iron Lair" to the Tower, but his amazement with it hadn't diminished.

"Good." Tony smirked a bit, picking at Steve's fries. "Wouldn't want you getting bored with me too soon."

"Boredom and you don't even belong in the same sentence." Steve smacked his hand away. "Stop it, you have your own."

"But stolen fries taste so much better."

"If you eat all my fries, I'm paying."

"_Steve—" _Tony, predictably, was aghast by this.

He took personal offense whenever Steve paid for anything, citing 'But I'm _rich, _Steve' as a reason. He tended to ignore the fact that Steve, thanks to seventy years of backpay, also more than qualified as rich. Steve had never been one to accept charity, but considering they both had plenty to go around, he found it didn't really matter to him who paid. He did get a kick out of using it to tease Tony though.

"Eat my fries, and I'll pay for them." Steve just waved a fry at Tony threateningly. "Don't test me, Tony."

Tony watched him warily a moment, debating his choices. Then, quick as a flash, he snapped the fry right out of Steve's hand with his teeth. Steve flicked him on the nose.

"Abuse!" Tony yelped, wrinkling his nose as adorably as Steve had expected.

"Theft." Steve shrugged, but a smile tugged on his lips as he waved down the waitress. "Check please."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I suppose." Tony reached across the table, swiping Steve's entire basket. "Even if you're a terrible sharer."

"My metabolism is five times yours, Tony." Steve rolled his eyes, snatching the basket back, though not before letting Tony grab a handful.

"Don't I know it." Tony snorted. "I don't think I've ever had to keep this much food in the house in my life."

"To be fair, I'm not the only one with a big appetite."

"Where does Bruce even _put _all that—"

"You're Iron Man, aren't you?" They were eating outside, and one of the other waitresses burst out of the diner to gesture at them. "You should come see this."

Tony and Steve exchanged a glance and a sigh. Well, there went lunch.

The TVs inside were lit up with news banners declaring an attack on Midtown High, and that was all either of them needed to see. They raced out into the parking lot, exchanging items and talking over each other.

"Do you have—"

"I have the suit, it's in the—"

"Trunk, right, mine is too, do you have—"

"The keys, here, what about—"

"I'll come back for the tab later, just go, I'll—"

"Meet me there, yeah, see you—"

Tony pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then opened the trunk and pulled out the suitcase suit, yanking it open and suiting up. He took off into the sky, and Steve was quick to follow in the car. Traffic just got worse the closer he got the school, so eventually he gave up, parked the car, changed in the backseat—making out there earlier turned out to be good practice for having to fumble his way into a patriotic jumpsuit now—and sprinted the rest of the way.

Doctor Doom.

"What part of _my territory," _Tony grunted, blasting Doctor Doom square in the chest, "Did you not understand the first time?"

"Ah, but you switched sides!" Doctor Doom just rose back up, sending another twenty doombots Tony's way. "Your claim is invalid now!"

The two continued bickering while Steve quickly analyzed the scene. Natasha and Clint must've snuck off to change at some point, since they were now in costume and helping protect a group of early-arriving students and staff from the doombots. Steve jumped into the fray, deciding he'd be best off helping Tony take out the problem at its source. He let his shield fly, and the fight was on.

It didn't take very long, all things considered, and ended rather abruptly when SHIELD arrived and dropped Bruce out of a helicopter.

While the mangled Doctor Doom was taken into custody, Tony talked science to the Hulk until Bruce reappeared and Steve spoke to Clint and Natasha.

"This is how we're doing things now?" Steve chuckled. "Drop a Hulk on any potential problems?"

"It's got a certain crude effectiveness to it." Natasha pointed out.

Now that the football field had a Hulk-sized crater Tony swore up and down he'd pay for, graduation was moved to the soccer fields out back. Tony showing off the suit to his students gave Steve, Clint and Natasha time to sneak off and change, and by the time they got back, everyone had started moving chairs. Some of the bleachers were portable as well, too heavy to be carried by civilians but manageable for Tony in the suit. It looked like slow going though, so Steve, stupidly, thought he ought to help.

It was only after he'd picked one up that he realized the mistake he'd just made.

"Holy _fuck—"_

"How did he—"

"No one could—"

"Dude, _Captain America _could—"

"No fucking way—"

"Ohmigod, I threw water balloons at Captain America—"

There was an explosion of voices, and the students surged forward, abandoning their moving efforts to talk to him all at once. Steve carefully put the bleacher down and debated running, but he was lifted into the air before he could.

"Hey, c'mon now, personal space," Tony chastised the students, then to Steve, "Really? Lifting a bleacher? That's how you want to give away your secret identity?"

"I didn't _mean _to—"

"I'm just saying, it's a lot cooler if you incorporate a life or death situation, some aliens, maybe a wormhole…"

"Yes, Tony, your reveal was much more dramatic, are you happy?"

"Very. You know what this means, right?"

"More reporters prying into our lives?" Steve sighed unhappily.

"I was thinking post-battle kisses. Man, you're such a downer sometimes."

There was no hope of convincing the kids to keep it quiet. According to Tony, it hit something called the "twittersphere" before Steve's feet even touched the ground again. They had to call in Tony's entire security team and a squad of SHIELD agents for the graduation alone. The security, though necessary, slowed everything down, and by the time everyone was seated and settled down, it was almost an hour after they were supposed to begin.

Tony fell asleep on Steve's shoulder during the speeches, and Steve smiled at the familiarity of it. They really should try and fit in a movie sometime. Maybe this weekend? Steve let his thoughts wander as the procession began, equally uninteresting. He was proud of his students, of course, but there were an awful lot of them and they didn't seem to be particularly fast walkers.

Robert, of course, couldn't do anything the easy way.

Soon as he had a diploma in his hand, he dodged and weaved the superintendent's attempt to stop him, grabbing the mic and pointing at someone in the audience with a cheeky grin.

"Hey, you, I like your face a lot. Wanna go out sometime?"

"Who, me?" A brunette with scruffy hair blinked wildly.

"Not you, Andrew, you don't even go here." Robert rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the blonde male next to Andrew. Steve recognized the boy as a sophomore from his fourth period. "What d'ya say, Evans?"

It was at that point he was tackled by an over-eager Happy and tumbled off the stage, but Steve figured everything worked out for the best, since he caught the boys making out behind the bleachers an hour later.

"That may have been my fault," Tony admitted later, when Steve told him what Robert did, "I did advise a more eloquent speech though. But then, I'm not exactly surprised he didn't listen. When I told him mine, he thought that to say anything like it I'd have to be getting married or something."

"Married?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "These kids are startlingly invested in our relationship."

"You think that's bad, and you want to see tumblr?" Tony laughed, pulling Steve in for a kiss. "Darling, I love you, never change."

"I get the feeling you're being condescending again," Steve shot him a look when they parted, "But I'm going to let that slide in lieu of the fact that I know you mean it anyway."

"You were right, you know." Tony fidgeted, just a bit. "There's going to be a hell of a lot of reporters _really _interested in us now."

"Is this the part where you stupidly offer me an out long after the fact?" Steve rolled his eyes.

"Well." Tony cleared his throat. "I guess I should've offered you one before you were found out, but I mean, if it's all too much, there's no obligation—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Steve told him affectionately, looping his arms around Tony's waist and kissing his neck, lingering by his ear, "It's far too late."

"That's…your words are contradicting your actions here." Tony sounded confused, but more than eager to consent to Steve's contradictions.

"Not at all." Steve nipped at a particular spot on Tony's neck, curious if it was still sensitive from the night before. The utterly obscene noise Tony made was answer enough.

"What does that even—"

"It means I'm in love with you, sweetheart." Steve pulled away from Tony's neck to make eye contact with him, brush a hand over his cheek in reassurance. "It means I'm in love with you, means I've_ been_ in love with you, and I'm not going anywhere, come hell or high water. Reporters fall into the category of the former."

"God, I love you so much," Tony murmured reverently, the words soft as the kiss he pulled Steve into.


End file.
